


Mindless

by Sasha713



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/M, Some characters of my own making
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-09
Updated: 2012-04-09
Packaged: 2017-11-03 08:27:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 40,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/379352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sasha713/pseuds/Sasha713
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When an alien man follows SG-1 back through the Stargate after a routine mission, his actions cast Jack and Sam into the hands of Ba'al and his second in command, Tarut. Experiencing mind twisting torture, Sam is forced to face things from their past that will influence their future...</p><p>Set some time in Season 8.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is an older story I thought I would post here which used to be posted up on the SJalwaysandforever website before it shut down. The character death warning isn't something to be taken too seriously, as this is sci-fi, and in the world of Stargate, there are sarcophagus'. Convenient really. There is some smutty content, just to fore warn.

It had been a relatively normal mission, without any really dramatic problems cropping up and Samantha Carter was glad for that fact. Too often lately, things had been going terribly wrong each time SG-1 set foot off world, and she was glad for a little bit of a break.

Most times, she would go off-world with a wary eye cast on her surroundings, watching and waiting for something to go majorly wrong. Preparing for the worst and all that. It wasn’t always a good idea to prepare for the worst of course, seeing as that was extremely negative, but, in her line of work, it was necessary.

She knew that going off-world without that cautious attitude could -in all likeliness- get her and the rest of the team killed.

This time, however, her worry had been for nothing. She was home. They were home, and she was damn-well looking forward to the shower she was going to have.

It was funny how the simple things in life tended to impress her these days. A warm shower, a change of clothes and _not_ being imprisoned by some cliché bad guy tended to make her smile and sigh with relief.

“Uneventful.” Daniel said from beside her as he stepped off the ramp, his pause obvious as he glanced back towards the Stargate. He was probably thinking about what a relief that was too. How many times had they stepped back onto Earth exactly when they had been scheduled to do so?

Sam shot the man a smile, portraying that she knew exactly what he meant.

“I think you just broke the cycle.” The General said dryly from where he stood at the bottom of the ramp, waiting for them, his hands in his pockets, eyes alight with something that resembled fondness as he looked at her.

Sam grinned to herself and stepped off the ramp, just as the ‘gate began to spin and the siren’s began to wail. They all looked at the General with shocked eyes and he raised a brow.

“What? Hey, this is soooo not my fault.” He said as the soldiers began to filter into the room and the iris slammed shut.

 _“Unauthorised off-world activation.”_   Walter’s voice came over the intercom and they all went for cover at the sides of the gate ramp, waiting for the danger to cease.

“Jinx.” She muttered under her breathe, receiving a glare from the General.

“I thought you didn’t believe in that stuff.” He muttered irritably.

She didn’t get a chance to respond, as through the Stargate - _and the Iris_ \- stepped a man who seemed completely calm and reserved. Every gun in the room was trained on him, the clicking sounds all around the room alerting the guy of that fact.

A smile tipped up onto his lips, and he raised his hands, revealing that he himself was unarmed besides a small device that was clipped around his wrist.

“I mean you no harm.” He said in a resounding voice, and Jack sighed, muttering “to hell with this” before he stood and stepped back onto the ramp, motioning for Carter to give him her Zat.

“And _you_ are?” he asked, his voice leaving no room for argument. The man targeted his attention on Jack, and Sam stood slowly, her brow furrowing as the man grinned once more as if he had found a new toy to play with. He had vibrant green eyes and pale blonde hair, giving him an almost boyish look, but it was clear that he was much older than first impressions indicated.

“My name is Ellian, and I am from the planet these just visited. I followed her.” He said, focusing his eyes on her.

“Well, I think that maybe you should… _unfollow_ her.” Jack said, motioning to the now silent Stargate.

“I have come for a reason. I need your help.” He turned his attention to Sam and his eyes brightened.

“Samantha Carter. You have great compassion.” He said with that creepy smile again, as if asking her to talk to Jack to ease his suspicion.

“Then why didn’t you ask us for help while we were on your planet? A lot safer for you.” She said, rising to her feet cautiously, unnerved that the man knew her name.

“Maybe. But would it have been safer for _you_?” Jack opened his mouth to say something, but closed it once more, and Sam could tell that he was clearly growing more impatient with Mr. Mysterious.

“What do you need our help with?” Sam asked Ellian, and he once more turned his eerie green eyes onto her, looking serene.

“For many moons, we have been plagued with debilitating nightmares. To the point where our children are unable to sleep from them. They affect all who live on Dofran, and we have yet to find a cure for this ailment. Most believe that a demon from the stars is responsible. I am sure that is not the truth. I believe that there is some genetic disorder with which we all suffer, and the only way to relieve this problem is to…find new hosts for our conscious minds.”

“You’re kidding right? You want new bodies?” The General asked incredulously.

“Indeed we do. We are a dying race, most of our citizens resorting to self-murder in a bid to get away from the darkness that plagues our sleep. Others take the drug that I perfected which allows our bodies to remain awake without issue. This, however, cuts our lives down to a mere fraction of what is natural. I am expecting to succumb very soon, thus why I knew I had to act. No one else in my city has the skills nor the will to try to help. I am one among few. If I do not act now my people will become extinct and that is far more frightening to me that my own death.”

“Wait a second, you need _our_ help? I mean, you obviously are a technologically advanced race. You just stepped through a Titanium made Iris that protects our Stargate.” Daniel said, stepping up onto the ramp, fascinated by the discussion.

“It is true we are advanced beyond that of your planet, but advancement in one manner does not mean advancement in others. Your people do not have nightmares like the ones we are the victims of. I have come to ask for some host…”

“Hell no.” The General interrupted. “What _is_ it with Alien races wanting to take our bodies? I mean come on! The Goa’uld. The Tok’ra…”

“The Tok’ra don’t take Jack, they ask.” Daniel corrected.

“Whatever.”

“If not physical bodies, I must have more time to find a cure. Time which my body does not have.” Ellian continued, obviously smart enough to realise that he wasn’t going to get any _bodies_ for his people. The very idea was just _wrong_ to Sam. She couldn’t imagine swapping her body for another…like the Asgard.

_The Asgard._

Maybe they could help. Before Sam could suggest it, Ellian stepped back and stretched out his hand, showing hostile actions unexpectedly, pressing something on the wrist device that she had assumed was just something that activated the Stargate and allowed him to step unharmed through the Iris.

He had been underestimated.

Some sort of blast wave emanated outwards, throwing both Ellian and the General backwards. The gate room erupted into action and Sam went for Ellian, who was out cold on the floor of the ramp. Jack, however, began to moan and sat up slowly, rubbing his head.

“You okay Sir?” she asked, bending down over Ellian and checking his pulse. He was just unconscious. Maybe his technology wasn’t as advanced as they had thought. He’d practically just shot himself. Sam wasn’t sure that was what the desired outcome had been to Ellian’s little attack.

“Fine.” Jack responded gruffly, Daniel and Teal’c helping him to his feet.

“What the hell was that?” he asked, shaking the other men off and walking over to Ellian.

“It came from his wrist device.” Sam stated, unclipping the said device and lifting it to the light. Jack snagged it from her, then motioned to Daniel and Teal’c.

“Get him off the ramp.” They did as he asked as he assessed the device and then, he pressed a button on it that had Sam raising her brow.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Saving my people.” He said, before a blast similar to the one that had knocked him down hit her hard in the chest and she lost consciousness…

*******************************

 

Sam awoke with a pounding headache. She lifted her head to find the wavering form of the General crouched over her, his eyes intense on her face, showing more than his features ever had before when it came to her.

She moaned softly, trying to latch onto the truth of what had happened. All her memories flooded back to her and she jumped, crawling backwards away from him, before getting to her feet.

“You..!”

“I am sorry I had to do that Samantha. It was necessary.”

She turned to her surroundings, keeping her eyes focused as “Jack” got back to his feet, carefully, his whole body strained with tension. They were in some kind of forest somewhere, the gate nowhere in sight.

He held both her Zat, which she remembered giving to the General in the gate room, and her 9mm, and was now wearing her own tactical vest over his BDU’s. She was completely unarmed and felt naked off-world without her equipment.

She could feel the heavy weight of her knife still strapped to her ankle however, and if this wasn’t _essentially_ Jack, she would have been reaching for it by now.

“Necessary? Why?” She demanded sharply, latching onto his words.

“I asked for help, and it was denied." he said with a shrug, moving as if to reach for her.

“You may as well have not asked in the first place if you planned to take what you wanted anyway!” Sam said, shrugging off his almost touch. Jack’s touch. She never thought she would flinch from him.

“And what will happen to the General?” she asked, assuming already that the General’s consciousness was in Ellian’s _weaker_ body.

He was going to be _pissed_.

“He is in my body Samantha. He will not be harmed.” He replied in Jack’s voice, his tone so _proper_ that she would have laughed if not for the seriousness of this situation. It was so unlike Jack. There was no condescension or sarcasm present in his voice.

“You said your body didn’t have much time.” She said, latching onto her memory of the information he had given them before he had attacked them.

“Thus why we must hurry. I figured that you out of all the others would be able to assist me. Jack O’Neill would not have allowed you to come with me.”

“So you’re a mind reader as well?” She snapped fiercely. She totally agreed with the General. Surprises really did suck.

“I have studied the art of reading people, and because of our advancements, we are able to see the thoughts of others within actions. It is not hard to do. I could teach you if you wish it.”

“No. What I _wish_ is for us to go back to the SGC so the General can have his body back.” She replied, already knowing she would be denied.

“I cannot do that, and as I am in the role of dominance at this moment, you have no leverage so your request is denied.” He said it so matter-of-factly that it only succeeded in pissing her off more.

“Don’t think I can’t take you.” She warned.

“In gaining this body, I have also gained all the skills and habitual movements of your General. Not all physical reactions are in the mind. Some come from the body learning to move and forming habits of its own. I believe that he is quite agile and adept at most physical activities.”

Sam gaped. If he wasn’t such a tool, she would have been happy to ask all sorts of questions about the knowledge of people he obviously had. But he was the enemy right now, so…

“We would have tried to help you, you know…now the General will just want to kill you.” She said as they continued to walk.

“I am aware that Jack O’Neill is not a man that forgives lightly. But he will. I truly wish to give his body back…I was never planning to keep him forever.” He responded amicably, trying to earn _her_ forgiveness if not Jack’s. Earn her trust despite the deceptive actions he had taken to get his own way.

“And if your body dies?”

“Then I will be forced to keep him forever or find another host…in both cases, Jack O’Neill will be no more.”

“Ellian listen to me…you can’t just _take_ someone’s body.” She said desperately, somehow knowing that he wasn’t going to undo what he had done now. He turned on her, stepping up to her, so close she could smell Jack’s distinct scent which always managed to derail her. _This isn’t Jack_.

“No, _you_ listen, my people _need me_. They need someone to lead them from darkness. I have a son. He is plagued by nightmares and I cannot stand to watch him suffer one more night of restless sleep.” As soon as he said this, she felt chided. Jack would have helped him had he mentioned his son.

“He is tortured by them, awakens screaming out. He cannot eat from fear. He can barely stand it. I have tried to administer the drug to keep him awake, but it will not work on him. Stealing O’Neill’s body is a small crime compared to that of leaving my _son_ tortured…” He shook his head regretfully, lips thinning.

“I am sorry, but my son comes before that of your General. I know this body can help us Samantha. I scanned this body. He has the key. There is something that makes him different from the others.”

Sam stared at him hard, wondering what exactly could be different about Jack. Then it hit her. The Ancient gene. It had to be. The Asgard had also been hopeful that he was advanced enough to help them with their genetic degradation, but he wasn’t evolved enough yet. Maybe it was the same thing that attracted Ellian to Jack over the rest of them.

“Then why take me as well?” she asked, put-out by the fact that he had kidnapped her. So much for her shower.

“You have knowledge that he does not. Not only about his differences, but about how certain technologies work.”

“If you are so advanced, my knowledge of technology would be useless.” She groused, following him grudgingly. What else could she do? Try to escape? She didn’t even know where she was! Aside from that, she couldn’t just allow this alien to walk off with Jack’s body to parts unknown. It would be as good as leaving the General behind, and she was hard-wired to never do that.

“There are certain technologies that even we have trouble with. A race of people called the Alterans have technologies that can only be activated by one of their own. O’Neill has that gene. Taking you was merely a way to assure you that I would give his body back.”

“How do you know all this? About the General’s gene?” She asked, frowning at him. That kind of knowledge could only be gained by _knowing_ them, and he sure didn’t know them quite well enough for that.

“My scan assessed your team and found me the things I needed. I followed you for that knowledge, intent on only bringing you back to my people…but then…”

“You scanned the General.” She surmised, her mind working.

“Yes. I do not do this out of hostility, but merely to help my people survive.”

Sam grudgingly understood that, but she still couldn’t accept Ellian’s method for gaining their help. It wasn’t fair to take rather than accept denial. But Ellian was obviously desperate.

“We have allies that could have helped you…” she said, annoyed, once more thinking of the Asgard. They would have helped. She was sure of it. Ellian seemed advanced beyond Earth’s scientists. He actually reminded her of the Tollan’s, long gone now.

“I had already said I do not have much time left. I could not wait for you to contact these allies…”

They walked in silence for about an hour, and Sam began to feel impatient and annoyed. The temperature was relatively moderate, and she didn’t feel uncomfortable or anything, but this guy that had stolen Jack’s body barely was acknowledging that he had done something that was _wrong_ and that fact pissed her off more than any other.

“How far away is your city?” she asked when it became clear that he wasn’t going to offer up any information without some prompting.

“Not far.” He said unhelpfully.

“We sent a UAV over this planet and found nothing but forest and ruins.” She said, wondering where his people lived. She doubted they were forest dwellers, from the clean, pale clothing he’d worn that reminded her of something people wore at a hospital facility.

“It’s an underground city –kept hidden from a long dead enemy. The entrance is cloaked.” He explained. Well that would explain why the UAV hadn’t picked up a damn thing in her first initial scan of the terrain. She swore she would develop some technology so the UAV could detect a cloaking frequency.

If it was even remotely possible.

 _‘I’ll make it possible,’_ she thought determinedly.

It would be a better way to spend her down time than her current activity.

Although, seeing as the General was on vacation from his body, she didn’t feel so bad about letting her eyes stray over him for longer than appropriate. This way, she didn’t have to worry about him catching her in the act and facing the decidedly embarrassing moments that usually would follow such a blatant perusal.

She glanced around the surroundings as they walked, seeing that Ellian was starting to tire from the trek.

“The General has bad knees. Are they playing up?” she asked, glancing once more at his profile.

“I do not know what you mean Samantha. Jack O’Neill’s knees are not bad.” She narrowed her eyes on him, seeing the sincerity in his features.

_Huh._

So, Jack was lying. But why?

“He always says his knees are bad.” She murmured, half to herself.

“I believe that he uses the physical ailment to mask his true strength. Maybe to trick the enemy into believing him weak therefore underestimating him?” Ellian surmised.

“He was captured by a Goa’uld about a year ago and spent a lot of time in a Sarcophagus…” She said, thinking that maybe he didn’t want to admit that Ba’al had actually _fixed_ something he had been forced to live with for years.

“What is a … _Gold_? I have never heard of such a beast. And a _Sarcophagus_?” Ellian furrowed Jack’s brow, the confusion there such a _normal_ expression to be on his face that she was momentarily thrown.

Sam’s eyes widened and she stopped. Ellian only turned when he realised she was not beside him any longer, his eyes skimming back and catching on hers, something that Jack would rarely do. The brown of his eyes was like whiskey in the waning light of the sun overhead, the last of the rays highlighting everything around them in sharp, vibrant colour, dappled from the leaves high above them.

She had never realised how much his eyes could hold, his usual guardedness gone with Ellian’s internal presence.

“You know, I miss the days when I didn’t know what a Goa’uld was. But I don’t understand how you _don’t_ know. They have forced almost every planet into servitude except a few races.” Maybe his people _were_ formidable. Only advanced races seemed to exist below the Goa’uld’s radar.

“Including your world?” He asked, glancing at her once more.

“No. We have fought them. Our Stargate was buried for generations. It was discovered in an archaeological dig and made operational. We were unaware of the Gate system for a long time before that. But how have you managed to keep your people from them? You obviously have the technological advancement and knowledge of the Stargates.”

“My people do not use the Stargate. I only came to your world because it was necessary. My people are not easily traced. That is why you did not see us on your visit here, but we could see you. These Goa’uld you speak of have not bothered us.” Ellian seemed completely unaware how incredibly lucky his people were –well, besides this genetic nightmare problem.

“That’s amazing! I thought we were the only ones untouched by them.”

“Well you were wrong.” He replied with a superior lift of his chin. Sam wasn’t sure how to respond to that.

“We must move quickly. It is getting dark soon and I want to get back to my people. They need to see that I have not failed. Maybe then hope will be restored.”

Sam gratingly wanted to know more about this problem they had. Yes, Ellian had done the wrong thing, but, he was trying to protect and ensure the continuation of his people. Wouldn’t she do the same if it was necessary?

“How long have you been having these nightmares?” she asked before she allowed her annoyance to reengage in her mind.

“Five years ago, an illness swept through the city…spread through contact. It was something we had never experienced before. A scientist stumbled on a cure…or what he thought was a cure. He only admitted later that he had found it and instructions on how to use it in his laboratory. The drug was given to everyone. An inoculation against the mysterious illness. It cured the disease, but it left some unexpected markers on our DNA sequences. We aren’t even sure how it worked. I have been working to fix the issue ever since.”

Sam thought it sounded like something a Goa’uld would do. Specifically Nir’ti, or like something the Destroyer of Worlds would be responsible for. She wasn’t going to speculate, but, seeing as it had changed the DNA of Ellian’s people somehow, she had to guess that it was more Nir’ti’s _‘Modus Operandi’_.

“Do you know who left the cure in the lab?” she asked, her mind racing with the possibility that they could have been exposed to a Goa’uld…they just didn’t know it.

“No, but we are aware that we had some outside breach…because no one in our community would know how to do what that drug so ruthlessly did. Everyone has the disorder. No one would consciously do this to themselves.”

Sam drifted into silence, knowing that maybe the Asgard could help them. If only they had never destroyed that DNA device that Nir’ti had been experimenting on people with two years ago…then they could probably have helped Ellian’s people.

Before she could think any more on a solution for the problem, she got a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach that always came when she felt that a Goa’uld was nearby. From the deeply inset feeling she got, she could only guess that it was a patrol of Jaffa.

“Ellian…we need to find cover. Follow me.” She said softly, and he turned to her with uncomprehending eyes.

“Hide!” She reiterated as she moved towards the tree line, expecting him to follow. He didn’t though, and she cursed her bad luck as the Jaffa came onto the overgrown path as she went back to drag Ellian under cover.

It was too late.

“Cree!” The leader shouted, and Sam cursed out loud.

“Run…” She said fiercely, but Ellian gripped onto her arm.

“You aren’t going anywhere.” He said angrily, as if she was planning to skip out on him now and get away.

“Ellian…you don’t understand…”

But he ignored her, turning to the band of warriors. “My name is…”

They Zatted him abruptly and she fell backwards, looking from Jack to the approaching Jaffa, knowing she should run, but…she couldn’t. This was _Jack_. She couldn’t leave him behind. So she didn’t. She stood a little taller, putting her hands up to show she was unarmed, readying herself for the Zat blast that was sure to come.


	2. Chapter 2

Jack had awoken with an unexpected surprise, his body not his own, and a fierce anger radiating as he thought about what the little bastard had done. Not only had Ellian kidnapped his body, but he had kidnapped Carter too. Not that he could fault the man, but as far as he was concerned, anyone who stole his Carter was just looking for him to track them down and kick their ass.

“I have to find that bastard who hijacked my body.” He said angrily as he sat up in the infirmary bed, his voice not even his own. He could feel how weak this body was, and he knew that the man at least hadn’t lied about the seriousness of his condition.

“You want to go off world, don’t you?” Daniel asked with a frown.

“Carter is alone out there with _this_ freak…” He said, motioning to his physical self. “Not only that, but I can feel how tired this body is. He wasn’t kidding about his exhaustion. I’ve never felt anything like this.”

“So…not always good to be younger huh?” Daniel quipped mildly, and Jack just glared at him. If he was stronger he would have probably slugged the Archaeologist. As it was, he felt kind of like he was chronically _ill_ or something.

He yanked on his BDU’s, the SG uniform Daniel had brought him one of his own, so it was ill-fitting on Ellian’s shorter, lankier frame.

“It’s weird seeing you like this…I think you’re even younger than I am right now.” Daniel continued, his hands stuffed into his pockets.

“Don’t test me Daniel, I can still own you…even in this body.” He warned angrily.

“Hammond has taken over command of the SGC Jack. I doubt he will let you go off-world like this.” Daniel said as he sagged, his hand braced against the wall. He was having a hard time adjusting to the weakness.

 _Crap_.

He’d been afraid of that. He hated feeling helpless. Especially when it was Carter who was the one MIA. He was really beginning to hate aliens. He was sooo going to kick Ellian’s skinny ass…

*******************************

Sam awoke chained on her knees, lifting her head to find herself in an ornate room that was definitely Goa’uld in design. The opulent room had red and gold decorations, and a huge black throne in the centre of the room on a dais. They were both kneeling before the throne, and she tried not to show her discomfort. There was one Jaffa on guard, holding a staff weapon and not even bothering to pay them any attention as they came to. They could have been taken anywhere. A different planet even. She recognised the Jaffa’s forehead tattoo with a resigned kind of comprehension.

They were in deep crap here and she wasn’t sure how they would get out of it. Ellian moaned from beside her and she glanced across at him, seeing his eyes flutter. Jack’s eyes.

“Ellian, don’t say anything okay? Just stay quiet and let me do the talking.” She said, leaning to her side and as close to him as she possibly could so the Jaffa didn’t overhear her.

“They can’t know about your ability to switch bodies. If they find that out, your people will be sought out, do you understand? You need to pretend you’re the General.” She told him in no uncertain terms. He couldn’t be here. Not with the Goa’uld they had been captured by. God, the real Jack would be severely pissed right now if he knew what had happened.

She took in their surroundings with an avid eye, taking note of how many guards were present and how many possible escape routes there were.

One.

The room only had one entry point, meaning one exit, and although she could only see one guard, she knew there had to be more beyond the threshold. She needed the real Jack. And soon. Because there was no way that she could drag both herself and Ellian out of here, especially when he seemed to be frozen with fear.

“What are these people?” Ellian asked, lifting his head. He’d clearly never been zatted before.

“They are Jaffa. The soldiers of the Goa’uld, and from their markings…we are prisoners of _Ba’al_.” Even saying that name made her shiver. She wished she was wrong. Anyone but that sanctimonious…

“Ba’al?” He asked, gaining the attention off the guard that stood by the door.

“A system lord.” She provided just as two more Jaffa entered the room.

“Silence!” One of the new guards commanded with a dark glare, handling his staff weapon with both hands, waiting…

“Well, well…Isn’t this a wonderful surprise. The better half of SG1.” Sam closed her eyes for a moment as she heard the distinct voice of Ba’al coming from the secondary room she hadn’t seen behind her. She opened her eyes again as he came out in front of them, settling on his throne. He wore complete black, a robe of battle armour that accentuated his tall frame and immaculately groomed dark hair, the bottom of the robe flaring out from the edge of the armour over his torso.

He was handsome as usual, but his inner darkness had always made him seem…less…to her.

His arrogance was palpable.

“When I heard that my soldiers had captured not only my favourite _victim_ Jack O’Neill but Samantha Carter as well, why I had to come down and see for myself. And here you both are.” He extended his arms to encompass them both, a small, pleased smile edging onto his lips which managed to look both insidious and satisfied.

“The Taur’i… always getting into trouble by your _incessant_ need to explore this galaxy.” He said in a bored voice, his eyes cunningly assessing them, catching on Ellian over and over again, his brow furrowing. He had already noticed something. Sam didn’t glance at her companion, knowing that it would only bring more suspicion.

“Maybe some well-deserved torture will teach you a valuable lesson. And I do enjoy torturing _you_ O’Neill.” He stated, pinning his dark, piercing eyes on ‘Jack’.

“I am not who you think I am! My name is Ellian and I am merely borrowing Jack O’Neill’s body. I know nothing of their world. Please!” Ellian exploded, and Sam felt anger crease her.

 _Idiot_.

Ba’al was the last Goa’uld he wanted on his world. He would squeeze every technological advancement from his people before slaughtering them, claiming their world and going on his merry little way. Ellian had just condemned his own people out of fear.

“He’s lying.” Sam immediately stated, thinking that the man was about to betray his people to be spared from this torture. She felt like punching him. What sort of _hero_ of his people was he?

Ba’al began to laugh, then he stood and approached them, grabbing Jack’s chin and forcing his face upwards, gazing at him for a few moments. Sam cursed inwardly. He would see the truth of Ellian’s words in his terrified eyes, because Ba’al knew that Jack would laugh in his face before showing him weakness like this.

Ba’al stepped back and clicked his fingers, looking at Jack like a new shiny toy or something.

One of his Jaffa stepped forward, ready to do his bidding.

“Kill her.” He said, motioning to her but keeping his eyes on ‘Jack’. She struggled as he lifted her off her feet, but Jack didn’t do anything. He said nothing, looking down instead.

“Wait.” Ba’al commanded after seeing Jack’s reaction. The Jaffa paused, holding her with steel like arms, his armour digging into her skin.

“If you are this _Ellian_ , how did you come to be in Jack O’Neill’s body? Tell me or I will kill her, then you.”

“A device.” He said softly. “I wanted their help, but they would not give it. I had to steal his body.”

“And kidnap the woman?” Ba’al said with a laugh. He walked across to his throne, where their weapons had been placed, and he lifted the device, something he had never seen so immediately assumed was what Ellian had mentioned.

“ _This_ device?”

Ellian said nothing, clenching his jaw tightly instead, looking straight ahead stubbornly.

“You will show me how it is used.” Ba’al stated, assuming it _was_ the device without real corroboration, leaving no room for argument. Ellian lifted his head and stared at Ba’al straight in the eyes.

“No I will not.” He said fiercely, his gaze glinting with fury.

“No?” Ba’al said, his eyes glowing yellow, making Ellian flinch. He didn’t back down. Sam watched the exchange with bated breath. She suspected that after this, Ellian would never forget who the Goa’uld were. This was quite an extreme way to be introduced to the worst of the System Lords. Compared to Ba’al, Apophis was barely notable.

“Hmm. Well, maybe after a few rounds through the sarcophagus you will be more cooperative. I assure you that you will break…”

He turned to her, a smile edging onto his face. “Everyone does… _eventually_.”

He was giving her a message. That last time Jack had been his prisoner, he had been _broken_. Sam would never believe that. He was just trying to unnerve her. To intimidate her. Scare tactics. _‘Jack would never let this asshole break him,’_ she thought, in denial.

“You can do what you wish to me. I will not tell you the secrets of my people.” Ellian said from beside her. Now he grew some courage? _Now_? First he breaks from the idea of torture, then he defends? It was like he was Bi-Polar!

Ba’al’s face morphed into a steely mask, his eyes glinting dangerously as he stared at Ellian. “A conviction you will soon regret.”

“My Lord. The fleet awaits.” A Jaffa that was obliviously Ba’al’s First Prime stated as he entered the room.

Ba’al looked distinctly annoyed at the interruption, his eye ticking, lips thinning. He stepped closer to Ellian with a murderous, amused light in his eyes.

“You will reveal your secrets.” He whispered, almost kindly before he lifted his hand and the golden, torturous light erupted from the ribbon device and straight into Jack’s forehead.

“Stop…” Ellian whispered brokenly. His eyes glazed, body shuddering as Ba’al continued to hold his palm above him. “… _please_.”

Sam watched, struggling as blood began to slip from ‘Jack’s’ nose before he slumped against his bounds. Ba’al stepped back as Sam stared numbly at Jack’s form.

“Take him to the Sarcophagus.” He commanded before the Jaffa hauled him up, his dead weight making them have to hoist him up with grunts of strain. Sam could do nothing but watch them take him from the room.

“Tarut!” Ba’al yelled out, and a tall, finely robed figure with short blonde hair and a superior smirk on his face entered the room from the anti-chamber that she hadn’t seen before. He bowed shortly to Ba’al, his hands linked behind his back, lifting his head once more, eyes falling on her for a second before he raised a brow.

“Yes My Lord?” he asked, his voice distorted. Another Goa’uld. One under Ba’al’s command.

“I am required elsewhere.” Ba’al stated, seeming completely annoyed by the fact he had to leave now. He hadn’t expected to have prisoners before setting off with his fleet.

“Find out all you can from the presence within Jack O’Neill’s body, and this one.” He motioned to her, raking a fierce glance over her which made her shiver from the crawling feeling she felt all over her skin. It blossomed from her very pores, making coldness seep back into her system.

“Make them… _comfortable_ in my absence. I want to hear about the torture you inflict in detail.” Tarut’s pleased smile made that cold feeling within her spread. While Ba’al was intelligent and manipulative, this _Tarut_ seemed to be just a madman, urging to inflict pain on those he was allowed.

And Ba’al had just given him permission to do his worst.

Whatever that was, Sam felt that it would be in hers and Ellian’s best interests if they got out of the line of fire. Question was _how_ when Ellian was dead in Jack’s body and she was chained up like a sacrifice at their sanctimonious feet.

“Do you require them to be in one piece My Lord?” Tarut asked, fishing for some extra leeway with their imminent torture, placing his hands together like some kind of sick prayer…

Ba’al looked once more down at her, assessing her features and she had a moment where she thought he might leash his minion in some twisted sense of friendliness towards her, an enemy he had come to respect, albeit grudgingly.

“As long as the information she has in her mind regarding the Tau’ri facility remains intact to be extracted later, I do not care.” He said dismissively, turning to leave before he twisted back to look at the new Goa’uld.

“You have your device operational, do you not?” He continued, spearing the lesser Goa’uld with a biting look. He bowed slightly at his Lord.

“Of course.”

“Then do as you will.”

They spoke about the upcoming torture like some TV show Ba’al would miss due to his other pressing matters. And he’d just _killed_ Jack –or, Ellian. Something that was in no way meant to be treated in such a blasé manner.

They both turned to her, their eyes assessing, still submissive at their feet, even while inside she was seething with anger at what Ba’al had done. She remembered Jack had said he had been through the Sarcophagus a dozen or so times when Ba’al had held him prisoner that first time two years ago, remembered the withdrawal he had suffered on his road to recovery. A recovery that had never quite set in with the Psychological injuries he had received. Ba’al’s name always made a darkness enter his eyes, his memories some of his darkest he had she was sure, and he had a few dark memories to contend with in his life. Thoughts that could be triggered, but never fully revealed.

Ba’al had done this to him before. Killed him. Placed him in the Sarcophagus. Started all over again once he’d been conscious once more.

“When I return, you will no longer be so aggressive Colonel Carter.” He said sadly, reaching out to touch her face in an almost loving gesture that she knew was merely a way to mock her pain and her anger.

“Screw you.” She responded, pulling her head back to avoid his touch.

“I’m afraid I have no time for that particular activity.” He countered crisply. “But Tarut…he has plans for _you_.”

Sam ignored his words, fighting to stay calm, using anger as a veil of her less volatile emotions and fears. The ones that said she was not going to get out of this. Despite that, she knew there was no way she would submit to whatever plans Tarut had for her.

_Fight until your last._

_Survive._

She watched as Ba’al turned and swept from the room, not even looking at her again, as if he had already forgotten she was even there, about to become his _friends_ play thing.

“Take her to the cell.” Tarut commanded the two Jaffa that remained as his protection. Not that he needed protecting at this moment. She was useless chained as she was.

She was tugged harshly to her feet, fingers biting into her arm as they dragged her from the room. She stumbled when the other one shoved her forward, almost impacting the wall on their way out of Ba’al’s chamber into the dark bowls of the base. It was crude for a Goa’uld facility, barely enough Jaffa to form a real resistance, but she had no weapons.

As they walked, she counted barely a dozen men walking around, taking note of the different passageways they moved through to get to the cells. It was a darkened room with metal bars that lifted from the floor on a mechanism. The rest of the room was enclosed, two benches lining either wall. At the back there was a bared window that let in cold air and streams of dull sunlight that barely even brightened the chamber.

The planet they were on seemed to be seeped in early winter, the chill in the air making her shiver as they shoved her inside, her wrists still chained, the heavy cuffs at her wrists dragging at her hands.

They released the chains so they weren’t strictly at her back. The cuffs like gothic bracelets.

The door closed behind her and she turned in a circle in her new home, her mind whirring with thoughts and theories, and ideas that would probably never work.

The two Jaffa said nothing as they clanked away from her, leaving her in silence. It looked like they were the only prisoners, meaning there was no way to avert their attention.

They were the main attraction.

She guessed this was one of Ba’al’s outer lying domains, which required little fortification or manpower.

That was at least something in their favour. If they got free, they would be able to elude capture. She wasn’t sure Ellian would be much help though seeing as he may just _greet_ the Jaffa again. She rolled her eyes as she thought back to his naïve stupidity.

If ever there was a time for miracles, this was most certainly it.

She just hoped they let Ellian live longer next time, because she wanted a crack at killing him herself!


	3. Chapter 3

Daniel turned as Jack began to fall, ‘Ellian’s’ face paling suddenly, his skin clammy before he completely lost consciousness, his eyes rolling back in his head as he began to have a mini-seizure. Daniel caught him as best he could, but his body was twitching in such a way that he couldn’t hold him and keep him from hurting himself.

“Help!” He cried, as two nurses came rushing over, helping him lower Ellian’s body to the floor, holding him on his side so he didn’t swallow his tongue.

“What happened?” One nurse asked breathlessly and he shook his head as the tremors began to slow.

“Jack?” Daniel asked when Ellian’s body stopped seizing, watching in horror as the man slumped back, his eyes fluttering.

“No. I am Ellian…” He said, and Daniel realised that he had been returned to his own body. God. Had this happened to Jack’s body too? What would cause this?

“Where is Sam? Jack?” Daniel asked as Ellian sat up abruptly, looking even more pale, his features filled with horror.

“Captured…I was…tortured. Killed.” He reached up and wiped a shaking hand over his brow.

“Killed?” Daniel asked as he helped him back to his feet, helping him sit on the bed before he fell over again.

“That is why I have returned to my own body. Samantha called the captor a Goa’uld named Ba’al.” He said, delivering the bad news, and Daniel felt his blood actually run cold at the information.

_Oh, shit._

Cold dread washed down Daniel’s spine at the news, and he exchanged a horrified look with the nurse, who didn’t seem to grasp the direness of what Ellian had just told him. Not Ba’al. God, anyone but Ba’al!

“Jack O’Neill is dead…” Ellian said, looking up at him with haunted, guilty eyes.

Daniel hoped like hell that wasn’t true. Ba’al had killed Jack plenty of times before and he had always come back to bite the Goa’uld on the ass. He had to believe that this was another of these times.

“Don’t worry…I’m sure he’s fine.” He said, placing a hand on the alien man’s shoulder, wondering if Jack’s luck had finally just run out…

*******************************

 

 “Ellian? Ellian? Come on wake up…” Sam’s heart was in her throat as she looked down at Jack’s face, calling for his hijacker to wake up. He had been through the Sarcophagus. Now here he lay…unconscious. Probably from shock. She doubted that Ellian had expected to be a Goa’uld prisoner the first day of meeting one. Or that he would be tortured to death. Literally.

“Stop telling me what to do would ya Carter. It’s starting to grate at my ear drums.”

Sam gasped as Jack sat up and rubbed a hand over his eyes, finally looking around himself.

“Where are we?” he asked, in a grating voice, sounding like he was just waking up. She’d always liked the way he sounded after sleep. Not that she would ever admit that now she had Pete at home…although, she doubted she would have admitted it anyway.

“Sir!” She so badly wanted to hug him, but she refrained. The last thing they needed was for her to get all emotional. Ellian had told her that the only way for Jack to get his body back was for Ellian to give it back. Now here he was, back in his own skin.

“What the hell is going on Carter?” he asked, looking steamed, his eyes flashing darkly on her, glinting with wrath.

“You have your body back.” She said, motioning to him helplessly, stating the obvious. She knew that once he found out where they were and _who_ exactly had them, he wouldn’t be in much of a mood.

“I’m going to kill that body-switching rat!” he stated with utter conviction and Sam bit her lip, knowing that he probably wasn’t jesting. He looked mad enough to kill Ellian. If he had been here, Sam was sure Jack would be chasing him with a murderous expression on his face and his bare hands outstretched.

“Sir. We’re prisoners.” She said, glancing towards the cell doors. He followed her gaze and cursed.

“Prisoners of _whom_?” he asked, his voice dripping with condescension as he pushed up to a sitting position, pressing his hand against his head –squinting with the sign of a headache.

“Ba’al. Ellian was…killed. I’m guessing that’s why you’re back.”

He got to his feet gingerly, his face losing all emotion. Steely and dark, his eyes narrowed, his lips thinned. She didn’t know what he was thinking, but whatever it was, he was keeping it closed to her. So different to Ellian. Tarut would know instantly that he no longer had Ellian.

“Carter, have you lost all ability to stay under the radar?” he demanded hotly, his eyes on her now, unsympathetic and full of superior malice. Oh yeah, he wasn’t going to be too forgiving of her getting them captured.

“It wasn’t my fault Sir. Ellian had never even _heard_ of the Goa’uld, so when the Jaffa appeared out of nowhere while we were walking to his people…he _greeted_ them.”

She cringed as his eyes darkened.

“He _what_?” His voice promised retribution. “And you didn’t think to _stop_ him?”

“He wouldn’t listen to me…”

“Then why didn’t you just get the hell outta there? Why did you let yourself get captured too?” he yelled.

“Because…” she trailed off. ‘ _Because it was you’_.

“That’s not good enough Colonel!” he snapped, his malice targeted directly at her now, like he was three seconds away from giving her a complete dressing-down…and not in the way she had fantasised.

“I couldn’t let them take your body, Sir.” She stated angrily, her happiness at seeing him whole and alive in his body changing to anger. She knew that he was probably only angry because she was in this situation _with_ him.

“I’ve been down this road with Ba’al before Carter. I could have handled this fine. Now I have to think about getting your ass outta the fire as well as my own.” He continued his wrathful barrage, advancing on her, stopping only when they were toe-to-toe in his _‘pissed-off-General’_ mode. He turned away from her with a disgusted growl, frustrated beyond anything she had ever seen before this moment.

Her heart was beating furiously.

Sam was frozen, staring at his back as he tested the bars and paced, looking tenser than she had ever seen him. She guessed his stint with Ba’al last time hadn’t been kind on him besides his knees being healed. She remembered when he had been brought back, the withdrawal he had gone through. She had sat with him while he had been in his private room, while he had those nightmares. She had known if he woke from them to see her there, witnessing his pain, he would hate it. So she had left him, her heart breaking for the man she cared for. Deeply.

Now, he had been forced into a situation that was very similar –with her beside him.

 _‘Everyone breaks…eventually.’_ Ba’al’s words haunted her now –and she had to wonder. How much of Jack O’Neill had been stripped away while he’d been the Goa’uld’s prisoner?

“This isn’t the same compound I was at a year ago. Do you know where we are?” He asked testily, rubbing the side of his face tiredly, seeming a little _less_ volatile. He’d always been good at reengaging in hopeless situations.

“I don’t know. The Jaffa zatted us. I woke up here. Ba’al knows about Ellian. He broke at the idea that he would be tortured...”

“Well then his people are screwed if Ba’al actually finds where the sneaky bastards are hiding. Not that I find myself _caring_ after his stunt. Goddamn little…”

“He was only trying to help his people.” She said irritably, knowing she was courting more of his General-strength wrath by defending Ellian.

“So what, you’re on _his_ side now? After a day in his presence?” he demanded incredulously, shooting a glare at her darkly. Oh yeah, she’d missed _that_ glower.

“No, I just understand why he did what he did. He was desperate.”

“And now we are prisoners to that son of a bitch…”

“Ba’al’s gone, Sir. His second-in-command Tarut is in control, and he thinks he has _Ellian_. He doesn’t think he even has you. We could use that to our advantage.” She suggested.

“And how did Ellian react to torture?” He asked, sitting back onto the bench by the bars where he could keep an eye on the outer doors, pinning her with a pointed look. She grimaced.

“He…wasn’t used to the idea of being tortured, Sir. He reacted the same way a civilian would.” She replied, cringing internally. The way Ellian had broken at the mere _thought_ of torture… It made her wonder what would have happened if Ba’al had actually pulled out the knives. He hadn’t stayed submissive, having truly wanted to protect his people against Ba’al, but…he’d still been more likely to cave under the pressure and tell the Goa’uld anything he wanted to know.

“So a crying, blubbering mess? You want me to act like a _mess_ , Carter?”

“He refused to give Ba’al any information on the technology he had.” She said, ignoring his question, trying to redeem Ellian in Jack’s eyes, although at this point, she didn’t know why she was trying. She was just as annoyed that Ellian had gotten them into this mess as Jack was.

“Yeah, because he probably wanted to be killed so he could zip back into his own body and leave us here like prize offerings. Nice guy.” Jack growled, sarcasm dripping from his words.

Sam wasn’t sure that was accurate. Had Ellian pushed Ba’al on purpose to be killed? Had he known that was the only way to get back to his own body and away from the chance of torture?

If he was his people’s only hope to find a cure for their genetic issues, she could comprehend him wanting to return to his own body to continue to look for solutions, sacrificing Jack and her for the cause. It wasn’t much of a decision. Save his own people, or remain in prison with a woman he barely knew in a body he was borrowing. As far as she was concerned, it wasn’t really a tough choice for a guy with his whole civilisation depending on him.

She couldn’t assume that every person she met would make the same choices she would…

*******************************

 

They came for them not long after their talk about Ellian and his morals, both of them forced out of the cell, the heavy metal cuffs still attached to her wrists yanked as they attached a chain to the edge, pulling her along like some pet they barely tolerated.

Jack was given the same treatment, pulled along in front of her while he stayed quiet. He wasn’t doing his usual antagonistic dance with the Jaffa, attempting to pretend to be Ellian, although, she wasn’t really sure how long it would last. He just couldn’t help himself.

They were pulled into the room of before, then through to the secondary room which was darker than the first, the lights within barely cutting through the dim room that was windowless and stark, except for the platform that sat to the left of the room, like a slab of rock that had been crudely placed there as a torture table.

She shivered, taking note of the rest of her surroundings, seeing that another much smaller throne sat to the right of the room, their own equipment sorted on a small metal table beside the ornate seat.

There was a drain in the centre of the room that looked like it had staining of blood seeped into the rock around it, and several metal rings that were embedded into the floor, obviously to chain prisoners to while they awaited their turn on the table.

Next to the table sat a device that looked fairly technologically advanced, and she had to figure that was the device Ba’al had asked Tarut if he had operational.

She wasn’t sure she really wanted to know what the _device_ actually did. It had dials and a screen that was erected from the ceiling that was attached in brackets on the wall, cords running off the device into it. A view screen to whatever it was that the piece of equipment would do. On a tray beside the device sat several half-moon shaped disks that reminded her of the Tok’ra memory recall devices…just chopped in half.

Tarut appeared behind them, his resplendent robes looking out of place in this torture dungeon chamber.

“Now we shall see how you like my device.” He said with a happy smile as he settled in his small throne, like he owned the whole facility. She wondered if Ba’al ever worried that his second would begin to have delusions of grandeur when he left him to rule this place.

He moved his hand, motioning to the dark stone table, complete with heavy steel chains threaded through holes at the side of the stone, and straps to hold whoever was placed there down.

The Jaffa at her elbows grabbed her and forced her towards the table and the device, and she attempted to struggle but found herself overpowered by the two hulking warriors, especially seeing as she was cuffed and chained.

They lifted her onto the slab and linked her cuffs to the chains that were attached to the table before they removed the “leashing” chains. She lashed out at them but the second one pulled the chains tight through the holes in the slab, yanking her down like a board onto her back.

They used the straps at either side to hold her to the platform, strapping them over her ankles and hips to stop her from pulling away from the table, struggling to get free. It was no use. She got a frightening recollection of being in this position before…

God, she should be crazy by now with all the times she’d ended up on the wrong side of a torture device or mind probe or…

“How do you activate this device?” Tarut asked, holding up Ellian’s body-switching device, thinking he still had the owner of the technology. Jack said nothing, staring beyond Tarut as if he wasn’t even there.

“Tell me all I want to know or I will destroy her mind.” Tarut said, motioning to her, chained down like some sacrificial offering, standing up when Jack still refused to even acknowledge the man, refusing to bow to the will of this underling of Ba’al. The Jaffa slammed the staff weapon into the back of his knees and he crumpled with an angry growl, before they attached the ends of his chains to one of the rings that forced him to remain on his knees before Tarut.

Tarut motioned one of his Jaffa forward, nodding once with coldness in his eyes as he gazed at her, not hesitating to look her in the eyes with no remorse as he geared up to do something insidious. His minion stepped closer, placing one of the small discs that she had noticed earlier to her temple, the sting making her flinch. This was different to the Tok’ra version somehow, a thin cord hooked up to the machine beside her head. Something she had never seen before, but obviously not of Goa’uld design, hooked up to the monitor on the wall for all to see.

“What is this?” she demanded.

“A device I modified from a planet intent on reading and seeing the thoughts and memories of others. It was useless to me without a way to…have interactive control of specific memories.” He said and she finally realised what was happening. They were going to look at her memories. Didn’t sound so bad… but then again, this was the Goa’uld and having previous experience with the Tok’ra memory devices, she knew that it could be quite _intense_ to remember some things.

She hadn’t expected him to actually _tell_ her, but she had a feeling that by telling her, he was merely stimulating her fear. A scare tactic that wasn’t just a tactic. He was going to use it on her.

“I’m afraid that this machine provokes much pain. An unforeseen symptom of my modifications.” He said it in such a sorrowful way, as if he _wasn’t_ completely gleeful that the machine actually _caused_ pain. Unforeseen? Yeah right. He’d probably worked overtime to find a way to _make_ it induce pain in the victim.

“I think a test of your pain receptors is necessary.” Tarut said, and he approached, flicking a switch. White hot agony lanced through her skull as he dialled up the device, and she felt like her head was splitting in two, black spots erupting behind her eyes as pain so intense coursed like waves through her body, debilitating her with the harsh throbs.

He eased off and she realised that she could hear her own cry of pain, from somewhere that felt so far away from her. Slowly, reality came back to her with a slow throb, and she opened her eyes, panting, the noise heavy in her ears, her skin broken out into pin-pricks of sweat from the sudden pounding in her head.

Jack was straining against his cuffs, yelling at the Goa’uld fiercely, struggling so hard he was almost tearing his wrists from their sockets. One of the Jaffa jabbed him in the chest with the end of his staff weapon, and he crumpled –gasping- back to the floor where he fought to regain his breath. He struggled as they grabbed him, yanking him back to his knees. Sound came back to her slowly, but she could hear his words now, like she had been under water and was now just coming above the surface.

Tarut went to Jack and gripped his chin, forcing his face upwards, staring at him, a pleased look entering his gaze.

“Jack O’Neill.” He said gleefully, pushing him back away from him and crossing to the machine at her side. All she could do was lay there helplessly, the pain weakening her, forcing her to impotently watch as he lifted a secondary disc that was not attached to the machine, and moving back to Jack.

“Ba’al will be pleased to have you here O’Neill. He does _enjoy_ you.”

The Jaffa held Jack still, turning his head forcefully when he resisted and Tarut calmly placed the device on Jack’s temple, pressing it into his skin harshly before the Jaffa released him and he sagged slightly before sitting back on his knees.

“Now you will see and feel everything she does.” Tarut said, coming back to the machine.

“I’ve always been fascinated by the human mind. My host has been a wonderful insight into the psyche. I’ve learned much from sifting through his thoughts and memories. I’m afraid his mind is… _skewed_ from my explorations however. This machine makes it possible for me to sift through a person’s mind without having to claim them as a host. It does, however, leave the body weakened. Too much stimulation causes… _irreparable_ damage.”

“Now…let’s see what memories you have for me Samantha.” He said smoothly as her own memories, somehow channelled through the machine flashed across the large screen like a movie, everything seeming to be seen backwards. Tarut adjusted a setting, bringing the memories into perspective, and turning them the right way around so they were revealed as she remembered them.

He flicked through her memories until he found one that included Jack.

And the Za’tarc machine…


	4. Chapter 4

Jack watched as she was swept into her memories, his own mind drifting away from him as the device at his temple transported him mentally into her mind, seeing the things that she saw, feeling the things that she felt. He was standing to the side of her, but it was clear that she couldn’t see him, only the ‘Jack’ from her memory, strapped to the Za’tarc machine as she had asked Anise to retest him.

To find the memories that they had perceived as wrong and show that those memories _weren’t_ wrong, but that they had left a certain fact out.

Tarut had found the moment they had both realised that their feelings for each other were a lot deeper than either of them had chanced to acknowledge, and Jack knew right then that the alien would see this admittance, and target on those emotions.

Target their _hearts_.

Jack wanted to fight, to curse, but, although he was completely self-aware and was able to move and do what he wanted, Carter was not, and it was her memories that trapped them. Tarut had control, and Jack had no way to wrest it back from the Goa’uld.

He was pulled from his own thoughts when the ‘him’ in her memories admitted to caring for her, a lot more than he was supposed to, and he twisted to look at Carter, feeling the way her heart sped up its beats as he said those words, felt the responding emotion lift in her own chest. The feelings she had billowing outwards in her own mind as she looked at him in that Za’tarc chair.

The device on his temple linking him to her mind made his head throb with the evidence of the depths of her emotions in that moment. He had never known –despite everything they had gone through- how deep her feelings for him ran, and he felt like he’d been forced to watch her bare herself, unable to hide or pretend she didn’t feel what she felt.

Because he could almost _taste_ it. Almost touch it.

And now this bastard was twisting the purity of her heart, because Jack knew that this memory would become distorted in her mind.

“Turn it off.” He commanded, and he knew that he was really speaking outside her mind, despite the fact that he could only see what Tarut was making her see. He was unwilling to feel the throbbing of her emotions anymore. He couldn’t let Tarut destroy this innocent, untainted side of her. A side he had barely seen but had _wanted_ to see.

The memory suddenly greyed around the edges, her eyes flicking down to the Za’tarc machine –the sudden wave of panic he felt radiating outwards from her, the change like a slow pouring of cold through his veins, the panic in her increasing. He walked over to stand behind her, seeing the eye of the Za’tarc machine billow red, saying that he was still lying. Still withholding when he knew he wasn’t.

This wasn’t what had happened.

Tarut was changing things he had no right to change.

Carter turned to Anise, eyes desperate.

“He told you the truth! He can’t still be suspected!” She erupted, angry, and looking confused, as if a part of her knew that this couldn’t be real. She was questioning her mind. As long as she continued to do that, then maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. They could get through this. He had faith in her.

“I’m sorry Major, but the machine speaks. Colonel O’Neill is really a Za’tarc.” Sam turned her eyes to ‘Jack’, meeting his gaze, and he was forced to watch the exchange as they spoke without words, some deeper conversation arcing between them. Was that truly what they did? Was that what people saw from the outside?

She moved forward, suddenly with a Zat in her hand, and she went to unstrap him. Anise tried to stop her, but Sam zatted the Tok’ra woman before she continued to undo the Colonel’s bounds.

“We have to leave…” She said, swinging her eyes towards the door as Teal’c arrived, seeing the whole thing from the observation room above.

“Major Carter, O’Neill must remain shackled…” He began, moving into the room carefully.

“He isn’t a Za’tarc. The machine is lying! It has to be! It isn’t supposed to happen like this…It wasn’t him. It was Martouf, not Jack…” she argued. Jack tried to reach for her, to try to calm her, but his hand went right through her. Tarut had placed him here to merely watch her panic and her pain. To torment him with the memories too.

The other version of him stood up, then closed his eyes, his hand to his forehead. He turned, eyes flashing open as he launched himself at Teal’c, throwing all his weight into the Jaffa, both of them jolted off balance as Teal’c careened sideways into the wall. Sam backed off a step as ‘Jack’ pulled the Zat from Teal’c’s hand, swinging it towards the doorway, shooting the SF that came to assist the Jaffa.

Teal’c wrestled him to the ground, and Sam zatted them both, Teal’c slumping while ‘Jack’ merely shook off the affects and came to his feet, coming at her with a feral yell, as if he couldn’t control himself. He had no device to kill her, to blow himself up, so he resorted to hand-to-hand combat. Sam shot him again, tears raking down her cheeks as she was forced to Zat him a second time. He crumpled to the floor, the effects debilitating him, but he went to get up once more, just as an SF rounded the corner, a 9mm drawn and aimed.

“No!” Carter ran to block the shot, but the soldier had already fired, the bullet slamming into his back, dead weight pitching forward and falling against her, bringing her to the ground with him.

“Carter! It’s not real. Think!” He yelled from where he still stood watching but not really present as she crumpled, sobbing out a shocked breath as she held his dead body in her arms, eyes wide with panic and numb fear, the complete debilitation of her mind slamming into him, and he fell to his knees from the pain that his death evoked from within her. It seared him, tightening in his chest, as if he was feeling her grief.

The memory faded, and he could see the torture room once more, on his knees before Tarut who was grinning, the complete evil in his expression making Jack feel anger boil within him as Carter’s feelings faded and he was suddenly feeling his own emotions now. Rage. Indignation. Pain.

Carter was laying on the table still, her back arched slightly as she fought to get free, tears on her face as she looked at him, remembering that he wasn’t really dead, her twisted memory fading as she came back to reality, the machine’s screen now blank. She kept her eyes on his, willing herself to see him, and not the body and the blood that was dominating her thoughts.

“It wasn’t real.” She whispered brokenly, her eyes watery, the relief in her features tearing into him.

“No.” He replied hoarsely, and their pain was split when Tarut merely laughed.

He approached the machine again, the malicious light in his eyes and the smirk on his features telling Jack that this was far from over. He kept his eyes on Sam’s until the device at his temple activated again, and he was drawn deeply into another memory…

*******************************

 

Sam awoke in a bedroom. It was night time, a breeze kicking at the curtains, the window open to a storm, thunder rumbling, clouds darkening the horizon. She got up from the bed, pushing the sheets aside, walking to the window as if she was floating, closing the pane with a soft pressure as a chill erupted across her skin.

She felt detached. Odd. Like this was merely a dream, but at the same time, she felt real. The press of the wood under her palms as she closed the window, the curtain brushing the side of her bare arm like a lover’s caress.

 _Real_.

She leaned forward, seeing the lightening flash through the trees outside, the ominous feel of the air around her telling of the oncoming storm. The scents from beyond the quiet solitude of this room were earthy, like moss and something more elemental.

She turned, sucking in a breath as she realised she wasn’t alone.

He was standing by the doorway, seeped in darkness, his form familiar, hands tucked into his pockets as he watched her, unmoving. Maybe he had been there the whole time.

She remembered this.

A fantasy she had long held deep within, dormant so she wasn’t thrumming with longing. It was her personal wish. That he would come to her. The quiet solitude surrounding them, like a bubble closed around them, isolating them from the rest of the world. A place where nothing mattered but them.

She felt shivers erupt on her skin, making her unconsciously wrap her arms around herself as if for protection.

He approached slowly, his silver hair illuminated as a flash of lightning lit the room, his eyes glinting as they took her in, assessing her with a quiet kind of resolve as he moved ever so slowly towards her. He stopped before her, his hands coming out of his pockets to reach out, taking her by the elbows and urging her closer. She took half a step, feeling her chest press to his, her breasts sinking there, a soft sigh escaping her lips.

“Carter…” he said on a gravelly voice, his eyes intent on hers before he dipped his head, seeming to take in her scent before he closed his lips over hers, sucking gently, urging her to open her mouth to his ministrations.

She couldn’t resist the pull of the kiss, succumbing to her own long dormant desires, hands pressing to his chest, moaning softly as she attempted to put some space between them even while her body reacted to his presence, the kiss seeming to be overshadowing the doubts she had regarding this moment.

His tongue swept inside her mouth, tasting her, his hands skimming down her back until she felt herself tipping forward, her eyes fluttering open, realising he had backed up a few steps and lowered himself to the edge of the bed, bringing her over him. She followed his lead, unable to do anything but follow the movements, feeling every one of his strokes, bolder now, as he touched her, bringing the shirt she wore up over her head, revealing pale flesh to his gaze, hungry eyes skimming over her bared skin.

He twisted her, depositing her beneath him on the mattress, the rain that had begun to lash the house beyond the safety of its walls barely acknowledged as he tipped her head back with a pressure on her neck, fingers flexing at her throat, not as a threat but as a proof of his domination.

She gasped as his lips trailed across her jaw, spreading wet kisses down the column of her throat, each soft press of his mouth, and each rough exhalation of breath huffing over her sensitive flesh sending shards of pleasure through her, searing her nerve endings.

She reached up, threading her fingers through his hair, trying to control herself when he was torturing her so sweetly, his lips grazing one hard nipple before he turned his head, grazing the other with the side of his cheek, stubbled, scratching over her softness, the abrasion an almost sadistic thrill.

“Jack…” she whispered brokenly, opening her eyes to look down at him as he slid his hand down her stomach, fingers skimming, dancing across her bare skin, dipping into the edge of her panties, her hips arching for more of his touch, an addiction.

He didn’t wait. Didn’t even look up at her as his fingers slipped underneath the band to inch lower, teasing her, his fingers plying through damp flesh as he turned his head and captured one nipple into the hot depths of his mouth unexpectedly.

She moaned, her back arching as he unerringly found her clit and rubbed down on the bud, her thighs clamping impotently at either side of his hips, pressed open by his presence between them.

He didn’t say anything, just began to send spiral after spiral of pleasure up into her lower belly with each press and massage of his fingers, each slow suck of her breast into his mouth, teeth dragging across her nipple as if he couldn’t help himself.

He groaned, the vibration stuttering across her skin, making her body shake with the deliciously intoxicating promise of release.

He pulled his hand away, his lips lifting from her nipple, a darkness in his gaze that demanded everything she was. Demanded she allow him to have what he wanted. Now.

She didn’t protest as he drew her panties down her legs, casting them aside, his eyes skimming down to the juncture of her thighs, partly spread around his hips, his lips parting as he saw every part of her, illuminated by the volatile flashes of lightning outside the window which seemed to be emulating her own unstable emotions, rain lashing the window with increasing violence the closer she came to completion.

He moved over her, his fingers tangling in her hair, pulling her head back, his thumb moving to the side of her mouth, her lips parting before he dipped his head and captured her lips once more.

She gasped against him as she felt him press to her core, his cock slipping against her drenched folds, finding her, entering her minimally before he pulled back and slid deeper, stretching her, her muscles contracting around the sudden fill of him deep inside her.

She tightened her thighs around his hips, feeling him pump shortly into her flesh, tight for him, barely able to withstand the way he was moving inside her, too soon for her to be truly ready, but too bitter-sweet to compel her to stop the sweet torture. All she could do was part her lips for his kiss, his hips grinding into hers on each entry, making her take him as deeply as she could, the friction dragging at her walls, sending shudder after shudder of pleasure through her body. She arched under him, moaning softly, her hands gripping at his sides to try to still the thudding of her heart, the delicious ache in her that demanded to be sated.

She needed. She wanted. A basic level of desire creasing her rational thoughts, forcing her to focus completely on her body as much as she could despite the slow mindlessness uncoiling in her brain, short-circuiting everything except the _feel_ of him moving so steadily inside her, pressing, gliding, surrounding, his heat radiating in and around her.

She climaxed, her whole body bowing, lips pulled from his to cry out, head tipped back as she tried to still his hard thrusts into her body. He reached down and held her thigh against the bed, thrusting in deeply, faster now, his lips on her collar bone, knee on the bed to give him leverage as he surged into her over and over again, his breathes harsh against the side of her neck, his arms gripping her to him, pressing her into the bed as if he didn’t dare let her go.

He came like that, his growl against her neck, the feeling of him spilling into her making her moan, the forbidden sensations doing little to ease the tension inside her.

He stilled, his breathing slowing, until he rolled to her side. She reached out to touch him, but he hefted himself up, standing with an unnatural smirk. Confusion edged under the sweet thrill of the pleasure he’d wrought from her, her whole body vibrating with sensation as she fought to understand why he had pulled away so abruptly.

He turned, his eyes flashing in the darkness that eerie yellow that spoke of a possessed host.

She twisted from the bed, a small scream echoing in her ears.

“Really think he wants you Carter? Like _that_?” the Goa’uld asked, the distorted voice unmistakable, his eyes laughing at her as she realised what this was.

There was suddenly a gun in her hand, the cold metal heavy and almost unnatural, her arm feeling weak, unable to lift the weapon without her body shaking. She cupped her other hand around the metal to brace her arm, aiming at him, tears dripping from her eyes.

“No…” She whispered brokenly, voice trembling, barely recognisable as her own

“He wants you to shoot him. Do it.” He said in that distorted voice. The snake was in control. And he had taken Jack, tricked her into debauchery, her fantasy that had been hers alone to touch now tainted with this horrifying realisation.

It hadn’t been Jack.

“No…” She repeated, stronger now despite the tremor as her braced arms shook with fear and emotion.

“ _Yes_ …” He hissed, coming at her, his eyes flashing as he grabbed for the weapon, holding her hands around it, stopping her from stumbling backwards, his fingers biting into hers, forcing her to continue to hold the gun.

“Samantha…can you shoot him?” he asked almost casually, his voice Jack’s now, hiding the presence of the creature within. He held her hands with the gun, his thumb pressing to her finger on the trigger almost lovingly, the nozzle against his heart which she could feel like it was thudding in her own chest, his eyes flashing again as he forced her finger harder onto the trigger.

“ _Don’t_ …” She begged, her voice broken, tears tumbling free as she tried to pull her fingers away with no avail.

His finger hooked over hers tighter, pressing…pressing…BANG.

He went careening backwards, falling onto the hardwood floor from the force of the blow, his chest punctured from the close quartered shot. The gun thudded to the floor, her shaking hands rising to her face, eyes wide as she looked down at his face, slackening, the flash of yellow extinguished as well as his life.

“ _Jack_ …” She screamed.

“NO…” she thrashed, feeling a sob escape her throat as she came back into herself, the fantasy twisted with blood, his lifeless form slumped on the floor, his essence still felt between her thighs, all imagined as she found herself once more in Tarut’s torture room, her back arching, wrists shackled to the altar like platform.

She was crying freely, her eyes unable to clear of the image of him dying right there before her. She had shot him. She had _shot_ him in the quiet solitude of her mind. In a place she had kept hidden for _them_. It wasn’t meant to go that way. It was meant to be different. He was supposed to hold her, whisper all the things she knew in reality he would _never_ say. But he hadn’t.

God, he had died as a host. _Because of her_.

“You fucking sick son of a bitch!” She could hear Jack yell, her eyes turning abruptly to find his face, almost shocked to see him alive, anger fiercely unleashed in his eyes, shooting daggers into Ba’al’s minion.

He was straining against his cuffs that were locked into the floor, his hands balled with impotent fury as the chains snapped taut, the glinting in his eyes speaking of a desire to lunge at the Goa’uld who was torturing her to do a little of his own.

 _Retribution_.

And he would. He could make this alien _scream_. Could destroy him in so many ways.

She knew.

She could see each one of those dark scenarios shifting in the insidious glare he cut towards Tarut.

“I’m going to shoot you myself! You got that?” He said on a low voice, the promise in his flashing eyes clear even to her in her devastated state.

His eyes turned to hers, catching, trying to comfort her without touching her, features softening as his jaw ticked while he tried to rein in his volatile temper.

“Carter… _focus_ …It wasn’t real…It’s over…” He said fiercely, willing her to listen, to see him and not see through him.

She couldn’t.

His eyes…Dimming…

Body slumped…

 _Blood_ …

“That’s where you’re wrong General. It’s not nearly over.” Tarut said, stepping between them, blocking her view of him. She felt wild, thrashing against her bonds, wanting to reach for this Goa’uld. Kill him. Why was he doing this? Why?

What could he possibly gain from this torture?

His eyes flashed, turning abruptly as the clinking of chains hitting the floor echoed in the chamber…

She lifted her head, disoriented, watching as Jack broke free of one cuff, reaching…reaching…

A staff weapon compacted against his temple, the Jaffa wielding it delivering the punishing blow.

He crumpled back to the floor, suddenly so still, eyes sightless and she screamed, her mind stuttering, telling her that this couldn’t be real. _It couldn’t be._

“Take him to the Sarcophagus.” The Goa’uld demanded sharply, pointing at Jack and she knew. They had just really killed him, and he was slumped –not in unconsciousness- but in death. His protests against her treatment bringing the blow that had killed him. The blasé way the Goa’uld treated the death of the most important person in her life angered her beyond comprehension.

She thrashed against the bonds, unable to stop the sobs that erupted unbidden from her at the sight, his eyes partly closed, blood swelling at his temple, slipping down to the floor, the edges of her mind screaming at her to _do something_.

Instead, she watched impotently as they un-cuffed his other wrist, limp now, and dragged him from the room, the last thing she saw of him his boots trailing uselessly around the corner.

She bowed, her eyes suddenly fierce on the Goa’uld who was torturing them for his own perverse pleasures, the tinge of excitement in his eyes angering her even more. He liked the feeling of their pain. Of the powerlessness they exhibited while he dug inside her mind, seeking ammunition for more games and more torment.

“You’re going to pay for this. You should just kill me now.”

“I have much more to witness before I will allow you that end.” He said, almost soothingly, his fingers, covered by a ribbon device grazing her cheek, the cold sharp tips of the claws scrapping against her over-sensitised skin, her nerves tingling from the constant, bone-snapping tension. A clear threat.

“Screw you.” She spat, straining against her restraints, aching to use his own hand device on him. She could. Jolinar had seen to that. She imagined taking it from him, watching him as he begged…and she could throw him into the wall with the latent power of the device, imbedding him into the gold hieroglyphs with as much satisfaction as he got from this mind-fuck.

She wouldn’t regret it. Wouldn’t feel like it was eating at her soul to kill someone –some _thing_ \- like that. Not like with Seth. She could do it and she would smile, because it would mean this _thing_ would suffer before it died, and every inch of pain he had ever inflicted would be repaid…


	5. Chapter 5

She sat numbly in the prison cell, the silence around her so intense she could almost hear it.

_Traumatised._

She'd always associated that word to other people. The ones who go through things that no person should ever endure. Unspeakable things.

As she sat there trying to be as still as possible (it hurt to move), her eyes wide open, staring as if into some abyss where she could see nothing but a stilted image of how this, -her memories, the skewed fantasies and lost moments of hope- was all just _wrong_ , she vaguely recognised that this was what being traumatised felt like.

Because she could have sworn he'd died for real. Could have sworn they'd killed him although she knew her own reality couldn’t be trusted anymore.

_Traumatised._

She turned her head as the door was opened, numbly watching as they dropped Jack onto the floor unceremoniously before closing them in together once more.

Silence reigned as she stared at the lump that was Jack, before she worked up enough effort to get up on shaky legs, the device not having just stripped her mental faculties but her physical co-ordination also. She moved towards him, hesitating, not wanting to find that he was actually still dead, slumped there to torture her some more with his demise. To really screw with her mind.

Lock her in with the dead body of the man she loved.

She got down beside him, turning his body over from where it had been awkwardly pressing his arm to the stone beneath, his head lolling backwards onto the floor. She cradled his head and then moved her fingers to check his pulse.

Her fear subsided, her heart slowing from its panicked pounding in her chest as she realised he was alive. They had used the Sarcophagus. Again. She frowned as she tried to keep her thoughts in the now, her own thoughts sabotaging her reality.

“Jack?” she asked, her voice audibly shaking, trying to rouse him. His eyes fluttered and he groaned, before he snapped them open with a curse, his eyes focusing on hers, the emotion in them searing her.

“Oh, God…” He pushed himself to his knees, grabbing her to his chest while she stiffened under the uncharacteristic move, his fingers gripped tightly to her shirt, pressing her hard against him.

“You okay?” he asked, which seemed a silly question to her when he had been the one who had been dead. Again. If he wasn’t still…

She shook her head to rid herself of that thought. _He’s alive. He’s right here._

Instead of answering, she just wrapped her arms around his warm body and hugged him back.

He pulled back to look at her face, his eyes troubled as he assessed her, obviously finding some of her pieces missing as he studied her. Like she was three fries short of actually _having_ fries. Whatever he saw in her expression, -maybe that blank numbness she was struggling to fight- it seemed to concern him more than his own brush with the grim reaper.

Whatever he saw made his expression fill with unquestionable panic. He didn’t say anything more; he just pulled her closer again, holding her to him as if that would chase away the edges of her traumatised state.

She wished it was enough…

*******************************

 

She wasn’t sure what had happened. She must have drifted to sleep in the cell in Jack’s arms, or passed out, but when she awoke, she found herself in the SGC elevator, turning her head to find Jack standing there, her mind a blank of how exactly she’d come to be here.

It was so… _normal_.

She didn’t move, turning back to face the silver doors before her, seeing a vague kind of outline of her body, warped by the surface of the metal. Distorted. Just like her memory of how she had come to be standing just there. Hadn’t she been…

“So, who is he?” Jack asked calmly from beside her and she was startled back into the reality of this, the slow ticking of the floors drifting by, the numbers slipping upwards slowly, like it was a dream where things weren’t quite real enough. Didn’t move quite fast enough. Like a black hole was pulling at the very ether surrounding them, disjointing time and space.

She glanced at him, her frown deepening.

“Why would you assume…” She began, her mouth moving, words spilling forth like her brain was reading from some script which was compelling her to speak, although those words had never truly crossed her mind before she had heard her voice.

“Humming.” He said abruptly, and she stared at him as he glanced at her, his body stilled, rocking slightly as he deepened his hands in his pockets.

She hadn’t been humming.

But the memory was playing out. And she could vaguely recall this happening…but…it couldn’t be real. This had already happened and she knew this wasn’t Deja Vu.

“I wasn’t humming.” She whispered, her memories suddenly warping as she broke free of the supposed lines she was supposed to speak.

Telling the General –Colonel at the time- about Pete. Giving him her reasons for humming in an elevator like it was the easiest thing she could do in his presence.

His eyes turn to hers, glinting suddenly with an unholy light, a tremor of fear guiding its way through her like a missile, ending in her stomach as the elevator suddenly jerked to a stop, throwing her against the wall. He came careening into her, the momentum assumed as completely involuntary on his part, until he braced his hands at either side of her head to stop from slamming into her, effectively caging her in against the cold wall, eyes just as cold as the surface at her back.

The elevator was suddenly still, the only real noise besides a creaking that was coming from somewhere outside the car was their breathing, harsh and thick, mingling between them.

“Giving up Carter? That easy?” He murmured, words spoken by another delusion of him, his head dipping slightly and she held herself back just barely from reaching out and touching him, pressing her fingers into her chest. Maybe not just to push him away.

_‘I’d let you go’._

_‘That easy?’_

“I don’t know what you mean…” she whispered, her hands pressing firmer to his chest after a moment’s hesitation, trying to lever him away from her, the pressure she pushed with only seeming to make him lean heavier against her, her elbows bending.

“Yes you do.” He said casually, his tone belying his calm. The sharpness there making her eyes skim over the parts of his face she could see properly with the red emergency lighting and his close proximity. “ _Humming_? For someone else. _Really_?”

“Get off me.” She said fiercely, eyes flinted on his face, shoving against his chest once more. He backed off, a small patronising smile on his features, dark eyes full of wrath.

He leaned into her again abruptly, his fingers harsh against her chin as he tilted her head back against the cool metal, before he covered her mouth with his, his body heavy on hers until her whole body was pressed to the silver wall, the coldness seeping into her very skin.

Instead of warming her, the prolonged contact seemed to make her shiver, the wall at her back becoming unnaturally, bitingly cold. And when he finally ended the bruising kiss, she realised she was no longer in the elevator, but instead, standing in the middle of the Ancient outpost in Antarctica. He stepped away from her, his face gaunt now from cold shadows, features sharpened in the dimly lit cavern, eyes almost hollow with his sorrow that cut her as deeply as a knife would.

“You gave up on me.” He said softly, his voice echoing in the icy silence, shadows dancing over the walls as he turned and walked away from her. She followed, seeing him step up into the sleep chamber willingly –the same one they had left him in after Anubis’ attack.

“No,” she replied “…Never.”

She remembered this. A nightmare that had haunted her for the duration of his cryogenic sleep here. That she was somehow at fault for what had happened. That she had failed him by not finding a way to reverse the effects of the stasis chamber. Of the Ancient knowledge that had been downloaded into his brain.

“You did.” He murmured as she stood before him.

“I wouldn’t…” She argued half-heartedly, feeling defeated.

“You failed me.” He said sadly, leaning back in the chamber, pulling away from her even further; his body seeped in shadow now.

“I didn’t mean to! I don’t know how to fix this!”

“Not trying very hard.” He murmured with a wry smile that in no way met his dead eyes.

“'There’s nothing I can do!” She said, her voice shallow –threaded with almost desperate fear.

“… _failed me_ …” he repeated, but now, his voice was far-away, -faded, drifting, like he wasn’t really talking to her anymore.

The ice rose around him, encasing him, freezing the disappointed expression onto his face as he looked down upon her from within the chamber –something she had no hope of changing or fixing. It was a frozen image now, trapped beneath this surface.

“ _What am I supposed to do?_ ” she yelled, slamming her fist against the solid surface, acting as yet another barrier standing between them. What did he expect? How was _she_ supposed to fix this? She didn’t always have the answers damn it! She was only human!

She rested her head against the ice over where he stood, closing her eyes, a dry sob of frustration restricting her chest, feeling impotent and lost.

She felt a jolt, pulling her head back from the ice wall and finding herself once more in the SGC elevator, and they were standing there side by side again like nothing had happened, his hands stuffed in his pockets as the stilted lift hummed back to life, the emergency lighting flickering back to normal as the doors finally opened.

“Good luck.” He said as he stepped out, leaving her standing there, feeling unravelled. What had just happened?

It was like her memories of this moment had suddenly bubbled with underlying rage and jealousy, before it had righted itself again. Rage and jealousy she knew he would never feel. This wasn’t real.

“This isn’t real.” She stated forcefully, trying to recall why she was so sure of that. Her memories just wouldn’t engage, but she knew that she had to fight it. Intrinsically she _knew_. Instinctively.

*******************************

 

She stepped out on the next floor, finding herself stepping out onto a dry, hot planet, a place that was familiar, yet left her feeling a slice of dread in the very pit of her stomach. She twisted around, finding an expanse of nothing behind her instead of the SGC elevator, her whole body frozen as she realised with abject horror where exactly she was. The memories of this place flooded her mind unbidden, a nightmare that she had never truly been able to forget, colouring her safety.

She’d dreamed of this.

Woke up in a sweat with darting eyes as the nightmare overrode her sleep, a guise of calm always slipping into place when she was asked about her dreams. She could never admit how desperately she fought to breathe when she awoke suddenly from them. Could never admit how she still felt twinges of pain from each and every injury she had sustained on this very planet despite them being long since healed.

She had never truly been able to face the weakness she had felt, slumped against Jack in this very clearing, unable to utilise her limbs to move. To get up. To keep going. The fact that she had been giving up, consigning herself to a death that was in no way respectable.

Her nightmare grabbed hold now, like a grappling hook jerking along her surface before at last gaining purchase at the very edge of her conscious mind, locking into place, yanking her down into the abyss of fear and adrenaline that had held her hostage as the Super Soldier had chased her down like a rabid dog fresh on her scent.

Her eyes lifted as the air around her filled with disrupted dust, the very setting seeming to be seeped in a translucent sepia tone, dulling her senses, forcing her to watch with lagging muscles as the creature rose from the dirt, looking to be three times bigger than she remembered.

The fearsome warrior drone rose from the rubble like some sick zombie re-enactment of a corpse rising fresh from its grave, black suit trailing with dirt, arm lifting to point its weapon directly at her where she stood, detached yet knowing she was _here_. That this was somehow _real_ despite the inconsistencies that only seemed to confuse her more.

Her clothes weren’t dirtied. Her leg wasn’t streaming with blood. There was no pain in her body from hiking and running from this very being. Her head wasn’t pounding with the headache she remembered struggling with, the concussion she recalled having strangely void at this second.

“Hey!” She turned at the shout, seeing Jack appear in the clearing, distracting the creature. He was holding the Kull warrior weapon, getting the warriors attention.

The drone turned, swinging his arm around, and Sam watched in a muted kind of horror as he opened fire on Jack. The burst of fire from his forearm cut through the General’s vest, his body shuddering with the blows before he stumbled forward, eyes on hers as they blanked, his body falling backwards.

“No!” She screamed, clarity suddenly washing in on her all at once, like a grenade had gone off close by and she had been lost in the hearing impairment and disorientation from the rocking explosion, her mind righting itself too late as reality and sounds and _colour_ –now once more acute- came rushing into her, senses back on alert.

She ran for his fallen form, time speeding up as she came skidding to her knees in the dust, ignoring the warrior behind her who had the weapon trained back on her now.

She reached down and cradled Jack’s head in her hands, but it was too late, he was slumped in the dirt, cheek smeared with grit, eyes vacant and staring, vacuous in death.

She lifted her head in insolent fury, tears streaming down her face, caking the dirt that now covered her cheeks to rivulets of thin mud, her eyes on the Kull warrior as it beared down on her position.

She stared at the thing, knowing it would not have an ounce of mercy, waiting for death. _Begging_ for death, because she could not lose Jack and expect to be able to survive it. Not again.

“Do it!” she screamed, sitting back in the dirt, holding onto Jack tightly, as if she could make it all better, and he would wake up if only she could destroy this monster that trudged robotically towards her, dirt still trickling from beneath the plate of shining black metal armour.

She felt the blasts hit her, falling, falling…her hands still on Jack despite the fatal hits, and she was suddenly floating in a nothingness that should scare her, but all she could feel was pain.

She gasped a breath, back arching on the table in Tarut’s torture room, her heart suddenly kicking back into gear, loud in her ears now as she regained consciousness, hearing Jack yelling and cursing, drawing her back from the illusion of their deaths. And she recognised that she was sobbing.

********************************

 

Jack watched the screen with avid horror, seeing Sam, knowing she was seeing and feeling this as if it was real. Seeing and feeling this as if it was happening right now even though she knew she was here. Some part of her knew anyway.

“Carter… _It’s not real_!” He yelled, trying to be heard over her cries, her face turning away from the image wavering before her on the screen, an image that was merely a holographic projection of what she was seeing in her own mind, her tightly closed eyes unable to block it out.

It was behind her lids.

She shuddered on the platform, and Tarut took down some notations, as if _recording_ exactly what her reactions were, as if she was some kind of test subject. And she probably was.

She fell limp, unconscious, her mind overloaded and he struggled against his bonds, feeling his wrists begin to rub raw from the continuous strain of pulling against the cuffs.

“Why don’t you try me instead?” He attempted to make Tarut use him instead. _Anything_. What they were doing to her, it was taking its toll and he wasn’t sure how much she could take. How much _he_ could take. Seeing her like this was tearing at his very soul.

She’d been tortured before. Had been tormented by Fifth for crying out loud! But never before had he heard her beg for leniency nonsensically –like she wasn’t even aware of it.

It scared the crap out of him for her to hear and see what she was. It scared him because she cried for _him_. She begged _him_. And she would never be able to look at him without seeing her twisted memories again if they ever made it out of this.

“Why are you doing this?” he yelled at Tarut, wishing so badly for his hands to be wrapped around the bastard’s throat. He wouldn’t wait to kill him. He wouldn’t even hesitate. He would snap the bastard’s neck without remorse.

Tarut turned to him.

“Ba’al is fascinated with _you_ O’Neill. And he is aware of the _affection_ you have for this one. Samantha Carter.” He said her name as if was in awe of her –like somewhere inside his disturbed mind he recognised how damn special Carter really was.

“Well then why probe her mind?” He demanded angrily.

“I’m merely working up to the real prize.” Tarut said, looking at him with a renewed light. “I was there for your torture many years ago, waiting in the wings to test my _device_ on you. But you escaped. Now…you will not be so lucky.”

“Neither will you.” He growled, the threat clear. He was doing to kill this Goa’uld. He was sure of that. Even if he had to die to make it so.

Tarut lifted his hand and waved in four Jaffa. They came, unshackling Carter’s limp form and lifting her. One of the others came towards him and he strained against the cuffs as the man lifted his staff weapon. Jack merely looked the warrior in the eyes, just before the man slammed his staff weapon into his face.

Jack crumpled, dazed, shifting on the outer edges of consciousness, jarred awake again as the two remaining Jaffa unshackled him, his injury just severe enough to decimate the threat he would have been. He was lifted by his upper arms and he felt himself being dragged, fatigue and the harsh blow rendering him almost useless. He fiercely gripped onto wakefulness, needing to stay aware so he could help Carter. Protect her.

He wasn’t sure how yet, but he would…

He had to.


	6. Chapter 6

Darkness like a shroud settled over her, the sway of motion rolling beneath her as she drifted at the edges of consciousness –carried in a storm tossed sea of weightlessness by blurred, disembodied figures, their fingers biting into her.

Blackness and the clink of chains blurred and distorted behind the thudding of her own heart as sensations bombarded her senses from inside –memories dancing above a surface, below which teemed insidious nightmares, salivating to draw her deeper into her own mind.

She felt her wrists, heavy shackles weakening her already lethargic muscles, her fingers feeling numb –body reacting slowly to her commands –lagging behind.

Her eyes fluttered as the sea of motion ceased, and a sudden dizziness assailed her as a hard surface braced her back –stilling her suddenly.

She rolled, her eyes finally able to open against the torment of flashing lights, seeing a blur of the figures walking away from her, a door sliding closed with a grating that left her ear drums protesting, the ringing almost overwhelming her.

She couldn’t maintain her errant thoughts, chaotic bursts of feeling and pain swelling, then receding in her mind, making it impossible to grasp –like water through her fingertips.

“Carter…” A voice broke through the blur, and she tried to focus her mind, focus her eyes, finding a swaying figure hovering above where she lay.

The walls around her seemed to shudder, before they started shrinking around her, and she was suddenly cast like a stone back into the reality of a still pond, her presence rippling the world around her.

The figure above her wavered before clearing completely, the distorted sound of his voice suddenly sharpening.

She reached out and gripped the material of his jacket, her arm feeling weighted down, her fingers fumbling before gaining purchase.

He lurched forward with her sudden strength, forcing him to brace himself or fall on top of her.

“Carter…”

“Sir? _Oh…God_ …” She whimpered, feeling her emotions fray and tear at her as all the distorted visions rushed back to her –forcing her to face the torment of her skewed memories.

“You’re okay. You’re fine.” He murmured gruffly, and the first tangible thought she had was the wondering if he was trying to convince _her_ of that…or _himself_.

“So real…” she said, feeling a sob rise in her throat. She swallowed it back, her limbs shaking, mind and body disjointed, not quite fitting back together yet.

Her grip flagged, fingers releasing without her volition, her hand dropping away from him, the energy she’d had lagging and she slumped back, fighting to remain lucid.

“I know Carter…but it’s not real. It wasn’t real.” He said softly as she laid there on the floor, trying to stop the ceiling from tilting on its axis.

“He twisted my memories.” She whimpered. “You…” Her voice was broken, uncontrollable emotion jolting back and forth in her head like a pinball machine that never just… _stopped_.

Her eyes focused on his face, finding him there beside her like some apparition that she was _sure_ couldn’t possibly still exist after what she had seen…what she had felt under the pull of that device.

“That’s all they were Carter. They were twisted memories. Not real ones. I’m right here.”

“You saw?” she asked, feeling herself panic at the look that crossed his face, his eyes slipping from her face.

“Yeah. I saw.” He said softly, his eyes troubled now. Seeming like he would like nothing more than to take that back. To tell her he saw nothing of the inner torment of her mind. The memories –even the ones that had been real before they had drifted into the realm of _wrong_ \- were seared into his mind.

She knew. She could feel it herself.

“He…was in my mind Sir. He could have gotten any information…” she trailed off, feeling her stomach roil in protest, like she was about to be sick.

“Don’t think about that now.” He murmured, his fingers drifting up her arm to clench in the fabric of her BDU jacket, stilling her as she attempted to roll again. She was unable to think a straight thought while her body was motionless like this and her head was spinning in a chaotic vortex.

She turned onto her side, needing so badly to curl into herself, not quite ready to move to sit up, her limbs impotent and uncoordinated. She stared at the side of his leg, unable to take her eyes from that steady patch on his pants, her eyes tracing the threads desperately.

She could feel him there beside her, could hear his breathes, but it wasn’t close enough. She wasn’t game to look at him yet, fearful that she would just see a ghost. If she looked at him, she would only wonder if this reality would fade into some unbearable nightmare.

She realised she was shivering, body quaking minimally even while her muscles tensed to try to stem the intermittent shudders.

His hand was on her shoulder, his fingers curling into the material, flexing there like he couldn’t imagine doing anything else. Letting her go. It seemed to relax her, the warmth of him seeping into her through her own BDU jacket.

“Sir…” She whispered brokenly, turning slightly to look up at him, the expression on his face nothing she had ever seen before.

Open.

Heart-wrenching.

So much was revealed in that one pained expression, his emotions unable to hide underneath his usual controlled visage.

He reached out and helped her move closer to him, leading her head to his thigh to use as a pillow without a word, as a way to keep her eyes from his, to hide the expression he couldn’t help showing.

Resting there, she fought to calm the very essence of herself.

And he didn’t let go of her jacket.

She wasn’t aware of how much time passed as she drifted in and out of sleep, unable to pinpoint the exact moment when she had fallen to oblivion, or just passed out, but she awoke suddenly with a jerk when she felt the moment he unwound his fingers from the tight grip he had on her jacket collar.

“My turn.” He murmured as he got to his feet. She managed to sit up, feeling her strength almost returned to her, leaning back against the back wall. She watched Jack stand fearlessly before the Jaffa who entered their cell, without his weapons, using his very presence to block their way to _her_ in an insolent show of rebellion.

“Hey guys…” He greeted casually, his voice holding a tension that lined his almost calm words.

Dangerously calm.

“Bring her.” The first Jaffa said, pointing at her, and she braced herself as two of his soldiers came forward, the tensing of Jack’s body giving her cause for concern.

“Sir… _don’t_.” She implored, recognising the flicker of malignant intensity in his eyes. He was considering making a stand. To protect her from more of what they had done to her already.

It wasn’t possible. They were trapped. And he would only be beaten or worse. She wasn’t sure if she could stand to see that happen again. He was her only hold on reality right now –as tenuous as it was.

He seemed to not have heard her, his dark eyes glinting with anger, but then –he let them seize him without a fight.

Let them move past him to yank her up by her arms, her legs wobbling as she tried but failed to right herself, stumbling slightly forward, knees sagging, held upright only by the bruising grip of their hands on her arms.

“Easy!” Jack snapped, as if he had all the control of this situation, barking off orders to subordinates under his command not enemy Jaffa loyal to Ba’al.

He was shoved bodily out of the prison cell, propelled forward by the stem of one of the Staff weapons, the length of it pushed to his spine.

He moved with their prodding, and she kept her eyes focused fiercely on his back, needing a still point to quell the way the walls seemed to warp and swell as she walked, the floor like a bubble which dipped with each unsteady step she took, suspended between the two Jaffa who escorted her along.

They were led into Tarut’s private torture room, all their belongings still meticulously placed on the low table that sat within reaching distance of his throne.

Tarut sat in all his pretentious splendour, as if he was posing for some ‘Megalomaniac of the Year’ calendar spread. So much like his master Ba’al, but with a crazed light in his eyes. A light that scared her more than any words. This Goa’uld really was whacked.

The two Jaffa lifted her bodily onto the platform again despite her weak struggles, one of them throwing himself onto her legs when she kicked out. She wouldn’t be willing in this, even though she had never felt this weak in her life, still feeling the effects from the last time she had been on this table.

They linked the chains to her already cuffed wrists, dragging the chains taut so she had no choice but to be pulled down onto the table, the tightness of the bonds holding her arms down unyieldingly. They then proceeded to wrap the straps over her hips and then her lower legs.

Tarut’s mouth turned up into an indulgent smile at her struggles, then at the submissive position she was in, strapped down like a mental patient intent on self-harm. His eyes raked over her body in a clearly lascivious manner, unlike any other Goa’uld besides maybe Ba’al himself. This Goa’uld seemed to be fascinated by the human reactions. Not only sexual, but emotional as well as physical.

He had shown that already, getting pleasure from the way she had felt pleasure and then pain when she had shot Jack. And all the other memories that were now jumbled and muddled in her mind, blurs of fact and fiction that she couldn’t differentiate between.

Jack didn’t flinch as he was forced to his knees in front of Tarut’s dais. He kept his body stiff, his mouth firmly shut as he eyed the Goa’uld with little emotion in his face, his eyes the only thing that said anything of importance.

His eyes promised retribution of the most brutal kind.

She found herself fading as the device was activated once more and he searched for a new memory to exacerbate.

“No…” she whispered brokenly when he paused on a memory that she had been hoping he would leave be. She couldn’t bear for Jack to see this. To see how much this had hurt her. His indifference. God, she wasn’t strong enough for this. Not again. Not when Jack would watch her break. Already her hold on reality was drifting, and she wasn’t even sure if she looked over he would be there and alive.

She turned searching eyes, finding his, knowing if she could just see him everything would be alright. That maybe she wouldn’t drift off.

She clenched her fist, wanting to reach out for him.

Her mind dragged her inwards and she was catapulted into her own body, sitting across the desk from Jack as he entered her lab, saying something about a report. She felt herself answer, like all the other times, offering him the ring, his eyes skimming the contents of the velvet box. The velvet box Pete had given her.

“I haven’t said yes.” She said, her mouth saying the words she had said on that day.

“And yet…you haven’t said no.”

SNAP!

She felt the moment the scene warped, feeling a trickle of dread rush through her as he handed the box back to her, a glinting in his dark eyes that hadn’t been there before. She took the box in numb fingers as the room seemed to darken, the door slamming shut, leaving her alone in her lab with him, now such a threatening presence when before it had been almost resigned. Accepting. Gentle.

The Jack she knew was no longer present, and she fought to pull herself from the skewed memory, fighting to remember how she knew this was _wrong_. Jack in chains, a machine…Oh God. Why couldn’t she hold onto the truth? Everything felt…so… _convincing_....

“You want me to get down and beg Carter? To get on my knees and plead with you not to marry him? Because I have never even been compelled to do it.”

She shook her head as he caged her in against the bench, still seated as she was on her stool, she had to look up at his face, drawn with anger, his brows stormy slashes over his dark eyes.

“Did you really think I could ever want you?” He asked, his hands blocking her escape, his words softly spoken, like that could lessen the effect his statement had on her.

“Did you? Answer the question.” He reached out, his fingers grazing the side of her face in a caress that made her close her eyes at the bittersweet emotion that welled in her chest, the tears that sting her eyes, fighting to get free.

She went to stand, to retreat, but he had her trapped, his body pressing her against the edge of the bench, fingers that so lovingly grazed her cheek turning threatening as he slid them around into her hair, forcing her to look at him, the lust and the harsh _uncaring_ expression on his face as he raked her features with his eyes making her heart stutter.

He really felt nothing.

And that realisation ripped her heart to shreds.

He yanked her into him, the ring box that she had been gripping numbly falling to the floor of her lab, fumbled from her fingers.

He spun her around despite her resistance and forced her bodily down onto the lab bench, his hand at the base of her neck, pressing the side of her cheek against the cold, unyielding surface, his hips pressed firmly to her ass, leaning over her, trapping her there, his warmth sinking into her chilled skin. It would feel like a relief if it wasn’t for the way he was forcing this, his anger palpable even now when she couldn’t see his expression, the harsh lines of his body heavy on her.

“Please…” She said, her hand braced on the edge of the table as she tried to fight him, tried to her him to let up on her so she could herself back off the bench, her movements hesitant, only achieving to rub herself against him, his groan catching her attention, making her stop suddenly as she felt the evidence of his erection against her.

A thrill of unwanted longing shivered through her and she realised with a start that her protests were merely a show. Half-hearted. Another pretence to hide the truth.

That this was what she craved. That she had wanted this reaction, and not his usual casual indifference towards what decisions she made in her personal life.

“This what you’re looking for, Colonel?” he asked gruffly, as if reading her mind, his demand sharp as he pressed his other hand to her lower back, lifting himself slightly, his fingers working beneath the belt at her waist, tugging the shirt trapped below it.

“No.” She denied, her body cringing as his hand slipped up onto bare skin, following the line of her spine and pushing the shirt upwards as he went.

“That’s ‘No, Sir’.” He muttered, the reprimand sounding wrong at this moment, as he moved his hand around to edge under her abdomen, easing off his grip on her neck for a moment so he had room to move below. She went to move, but he tightened his hand once more.

“Ah ahhh Carter.” He said, slamming her back down again.

“This is what you wanted, so this is what you’re gonna get.” He said, lowering his head to breathe the words into her ear.

“You don’t really want to fight me…do you?” he asked, moving back once more, slipping his hand up her thigh this time, to get at her belt from below her waist instead of above it.

 _No_.

She didn’t want to fight him, and she knew she wouldn’t. Couldn’t. Tears seeped from the corner of her eye, but she fought them instead, stilling completely beneath him as he managed to pull her hips back enough to get his hand onto the catch of her belt.

He removed his hand from her neck, but she didn’t move, feeling him get her belt undone, closing her eyes as she realised that she would never say no to him. Never deny him this. Everything felt hazy. Unreal, and she struggled to think, struggled to remember why this wasn’t such a forbidden thing despite the fact that her CO and the man she loved beyond all others was undoing her belt, shifting to yank down her pants, revealing skin he should not be allowed to see. To curve his hand over.

 _‘Stop him’_ her mind pressed, but she didn’t, unable to move. Something was keeping her there, something that she couldn’t recognise or identify. Some insidious feeling that held her, like a fist clenched tight in her stomach.

She felt the need to fight, not Jack, -never Jack- but that other thing that was pulling her, twisting things. Something that slithered just below the surface of her mind.

But she couldn’t fight something she couldn’t see. Couldn’t fight when her body wasn’t letting her anymore.

She heard his belt buckle, jerking her back into the here and now, yet she was still equally as unable to fight him.

“This…this I have wanted.” He said, his voice deepened with desire as he palmed her ass cheek, pressing his fingers around the curve and to her front, his fingers between her legs, spreaing her with sure moves, the tip of his finger unerringly targeting her clit. He rubbed, not trying to hurt her, trying to ease her despite the harshness of what was happening.

He slipped his fingers lower, dipping his head, his forehead pressed to her shoulder blade as he easily slipped first one, then two fingers into her depths, his way slicked by moisture that her body had offered to him like a permission.

“God…” He mumbled, his teeth sinking into her skin in a gentle nip as he slipped his fingers out again, wetting her slit as she shuddered under his touch, bringing forth bitter-sweet sensations of pleasure.

He used his other hand to force her legs apart, giving way under his pressure without protest, and then he was there, sinking into her from behind, his full, hard flesh pressing and probing, slipping past her entrance, withdrawing slightly before he surged forward once more, pushing deeply. She expelled a strained breath, feeling him stretch her so perfectly, she never wanted him to remove himself from her tight flesh, moulded around him in a warm embrace that had him groaning against her shoulder blade, his breathes harsh and fast, his hips jerking slightly as he thrust all the way into her, forcing himself as deep as he could go, his body already reacting to her trembling, wet centre.

He started off slow, as if trying to savour the feeling of sinking inside her for the first time ever, but then his own need seemed to grow, his thrusts speeding up as he lifted himself from her back, the tender moment finished as his fingers once more flexed at the base of her skull, holding her still for him as he continued to plunge inside her, his way growing easier the longer he moved in and out.

His thrusts grew brutal, so deep she felt shudders of discomfort lance through her on each entry. From this position, he could go as deeply as he wanted, and she could do nothing but shift her legs slightly, his hand pressing to her neck to keep her down against the desk, the threat obvious as he flexed his fingers there, reminding her of what he could inflict if she resisted.

Then he was coming, his body shuddering behind her as he pumped into her, hips jerking as he emptied himself into her depths, torturing himself with pleasure as he leaned down and huffed his breaths at her neck, slumped as he was over her back, his hips giving one last quaking thrust before he was gone, leaving her vacuous and unsatisfied.

Maybe she had never deserved his all. Maybe she deserved to be nothing but a quick fuck bent over a desk in the back of the SGC. Because she had never been able to fight the regs for him. Had hidden behind the unattainable, and hurt him in the process.

“That’s all you deserve,” he murmured in her ear harshly.

It was only fair that he claim what he wanted and give her nothing in return.

She blinked as the world righted itself and she was once more sitting across the desk from him, his hands on the bench, both of them fully dressed. _It had never happened_.

“But you didn’t say no…” he repeated, as if the conversation was picking up from that moment in time, erasing everything after. Erasing what he had done. What _they_ had done. What she had willingly _let_ him do, because she would never say no to him. She would never deny him if he just took what he wanted for once and made the choice his own instead of hers.

She watched him walk out after the conversation played out, watching him leave, fading as he walked towards the door like some wisp of memory that was no more tangible than the air she breathed.

He was gone.

 _‘That’s all you deserve.’_ His harsh words echoed in her head, the sound tinny as if it was spoken through static.

Maybe he was right.

*******************************

 

Jack watched enthralled with horror as the new scene played out, feeling his body react as he was forced to watch himself dominate her, her whisper of ‘I’m sorry’ as she submissively _let_ him fuck her against her lab bench, his own body shuddering in orgasm.

He felt ashamed that he could grow hard from watching this, her pain as he walked away like she meant nothing draining at him, making him strain impotently at the chains that held him kneeling on the floor like some supplicant. This was her pain. And it was raw.

The fact she thought she deserved this for searching for happiness. The fact that this Goa’uld chose this memory to twist like some perverted sexual fantasy to see Carter –the strongest woman he had ever known- controlled and submitting to something he would never do to her without consent. He would never take away all of her control. He would never give her no choices. And he guessed that was what this was about more than anything. The fact that she had some decimating thoughts about him making it _her_ decision regarding them. About the reality that they would never have a them because she was afraid. She was reaching for nothing but smoke in the guise of him.

And he was letting her hide.

By giving her that choice, he was allowing her to be swept up with the pretences of rules and regulations, when the truth was, she was the one that was keeping him at a distance…because she didn’t have to fear rejection or failure if she was reaching for something unattainable like him.

And he had always known that. Somewhere inside. He had been all too willing to let that happen. To be that unattainable entity she craved him to be.

But now, as he watched her pain as he walked away from her in her memory, as he disappeared again, he felt like he had been sabotaging her just as completely as she had been sabotaging herself. And it took this Goa’uld, -with his unnerving ability to hit each and every one of her fears like nerves- to figure that out.

The memory fizzled out, his heart thudding painfully as he willed it to be over. Willing Tarut to stop this without words, to give them both a break from the raw and undignified emotions that were tearing them _both_ apart.

Another memory began, peeling back the layers of their stoic calm and military control with unspoken truths and distorted memories and dreams.


	7. Chapter 7

She wasn’t sure how she had come to be here, but she recalled feeling completely lost all afternoon, dusk settling not only outside, but in her heart too. He was on her front doorstep, her brow furrowing as confusion ate at her, and then clarity ensued. She remembered this.

Remembered it as a long sought after fantasy. Jack coming to her doorstep, finally telling her not to marry Pete.

She realised she must be dreaming. Must have fallen asleep watching TV after a long day at the SGC, and her mind had folded in on itself, offering her the fantasy that eased her as long as she was engrossed within it.

She allowed herself to relax into the role.

“Sir…” She said, looking up at him while gripping the door handle, knowing this was the part where she was supposed to wonder why he was here, on her doorstep at dusk, his hands tucked so casually into the pockets of his leather jacket as he turned back to her from where he was looking out over her front lawn.

“This a bad time?” he asked, glancing behind her to where she could hear the feint sound coming from the TV she’d been watching distractedly. Hadn’t she?

“No…I…TV.” She provided, realising he must think she had company.

“Ahh…” He rocked back on his heels, looking mightily uncomfortable, his eyes drifting downwards to his feet before he lifted his head, his lips pursed together for a moment like he did when he was considering what to say next.

“Something wrong?” She asked, filling in the silence gap that had opened up like a yawning cavern between them. This was always the way it went. He would follow the scripts laid out by his own personality where he was completely out of his element about how exactly to broach the subject of _them_. She would always feel like he was standing on her doorstep out of no will of his own, and that if she looked closer at him, he would have a look of shock on his features as if he had just been transported to her door by an Asgard beam despite the fact that his truck sat on her curb, proving he had come here of his own volition.

“No…No…I just…” he trailed off, assessing her features once more carefully, eyes wary as if he thought she would turn into the enemy at any second.

“Sir?”

He seemed to be struggling with something, and she really wanted to put him out of his misery, but, whatever he was here for was something she felt she had to hear.

“Are you happy?” He asked abruptly, like the words had just flown from his mouth. In her fantasy, she would always attempt to assure him that she _was_ happy, but then she would look at him, _really_ look at him, and see that only the honest truth would do.

“I could be happier.” She responded, and his eyes darkened, the mood turning charged.

He would then do the uncharacteristic move, backing her into the confines of her house, shutting the door, pressing her to the wall like some moment from a romance novel and kiss her until her toes curled and no other thoughts would enter her head.

Her fantasy would usually turn graphic, stumbling down her hallway, his hands under her shirt, her hands fumbling with his belt buckle.

This time was no different, but instead of a muted kind of longing, she felt every beat of her heart as it pounded against her chest, felt the soft glide of his fingers across her bared skin, his tongue toying with hers as he swept it over her bottom lip. His fingers clenched in her hair and she could feel the pull, his fingertips cold from the weather outside which seemed to anchor her to the reality of this.

“Don’t marry him…” He murmured with a desperate groan.

His mouth trailed kisses down her neck, a moan slipping unbidden past her lips as he shut her bedroom door with a snap, pulling back to pull the shirt she wore up over her head, casting it aside towards the oblivion of the floor before her knees hit the side of her bed and she tumbled backwards on the mattress while he stood beside it, looking down at her with desire evident in his molten gaze.

He stripped his jacket away and then his shirt, revealing his bare chest to her suddenly ravenous eyes, wanting him with so much hunger she felt each moment he wasn’t touching her with a feral kind of desperation. Her body begged – _hummed_ \- for his hands, cold fingers and all.

It was a need that wouldn’t be denied and she wasn’t planning to deny it any longer.

She blinked and they were naked, and he was sliding inside of her, and she could feel every ridge of him as he stretched her around him, his muscles strained as he held himself up from squashing her to the bed, her arms coming around him. She would have questioned the suddenness of their nakedness, but she cast the thought aside, thinking that this felt too real for it to be just a fantasy. Had her desire come true? Had he truly asked her not to marry Pete?

His movements were harsh, as if he couldn’t bear to take things slow, his hand fisting in the sheets beside her head as he rode her for all he was worth, his eyes flicking up to meet hers as he claimed her mouth in deep kisses before he was dipping his head at the side of her neck, his breaths harsh and tangible. Possessing her, almost as if he was claiming her back from Pete.

God, this was real! It wasn’t a fantasy this time. She wasn’t sure how or why, truthfully she didn’t care, all she could do was revel in the feeling of them. Together. And it felt so good and so right she wanted to sob with the relief she felt at finally experiencing this.

She laid back in his embrace, torn between regretting what they had done, knowing it had been a mistake of epic proportions, and knowing that she had never felt completely _sure_ of anything before like she did at this moment.

Even in the aftermath, she couldn’t feel the regret she should feel –because it was what she had wanted…right?

A coldness seeped into her veins when moments earlier she had been content and blissful –everything dulling suddenly, his fingers tensing on her arm where he had been lazily caressing her, as if he felt the change too.

He moved swiftly from beside her, pulling his jeans up onto his hips as there was a crashing noise somewhere beyond the calm bedroom where she could still feel him on her skin and smell him in the sheets.

She felt unreal –detached from herself- as the bedroom door burst open, banging against the wall as Pete came careening in, a darkness in his expression she hadn’t even thought him capable of portraying, growing darker as he spotted Jack standing bare-chested, his jeans open, beside the bed. She sat curled on the mattress, clearly naked beneath the tightly drawn sheet which she held protectively to her chest, the languid threads of pleasure still wrapped around her.

“You fucking bitch!” Pete exploded, and she watched as if in slow motion as he yanked a 9mm handgun from the back of his pants, arcing the weapon towards her on the bed.

The coldness in his eyes was similar to a person who felt nothing, who would be capable of cold-blooded murder. She believed his intention was sincere. He would pull that trigger. She could see the bitter desire to destroy the thing that had scorned him.

Destroy _her._

Jack reacted before Pete could fire, launching himself at the armed man which was now targeted at _him_ instead. He had successfully gained Pete’s dark attention.

“No!” She screamed as the gun shots echoed in the room, the bullets slamming into Jack consecutively, dropping him to the floor.

“Now you can’t have _him_ either.” Pete spat at her maliciously as she scrambled from the bedding to Jack’s side. He turned and walked out and Sam dropped to the floor, watching Jack’s chest try to rise as blood oozed from his chest wounds, bubbling on his lips when he tried to talk.

“Oh God…Jack!” She sobbed, grabbing the sheet with shaking, numbed fingers and pressing it to his chest to stem the bleeding.

His eyes met hers, imploring, his fingers tightening to hers as his eyes began to dull, face paling as he trembled, the blood loss making him cold. His eyes were losing focus.

“Hold on…” She begged, reaching for the cordless phone on the bedside table, knocking the dock off onto the floor in her hast, dialling as she pressed her other hand to his chest.

“Jack…stay with me… _please_ …” She pleaded fiercely, but his hand slipped from hers, fingers loosening, eyes fading even more of life, his body shuddering once more before he stilled, lifeless on her bedroom floor.

She fought to stay calm, but a broken sob escaped her lips, the phone slipping from her fingers as she fought to rouse him from that perpetual sleep, fingers searching for a pulse but finding none.

“Don’t leave me…” She leaned down and rested her cheek to his, the blood smeared as she held her fingers to his neck. His skin was still warmed, and she continued to put pressure on his wounds.

But he was gone.

She knew he was. Rationally, she _knew_. But this just didn’t feel right! _It couldn’t be!_

And yet, she could feel the blood, could feel the warmth that was fading from his skin, taste the saltiness of her tears that dripped from her eyes onto _his_ cheek as if they were his own.

Real. Tangible proof that he was gone…

…because of Pete. Because he had shot him, leaving her here _alive_ to feel the unbearable throb of grief that was now pounding through her system as it seared her nerves and her senses –numbing them with blinding and unapologetic agony.

“ _Jack!_ ”

“Carter…I’m right here. Focus Goddamn it!” his voice drifted to her, and she glanced down at his unmoving body, his cold lips and stilled features. Was she hearing things?

His voice wasn’t soothing her, she could barely think or react, her mind refusing to allow it. Her whole body was shuddering as her mental exhaustion translated physically to her body.

Nothing made sense, her reality ebbing and flowing too slowly for her to truly grasp the series of events unfolding around her.

Her eye lids fluttered, gaze unseeing on a foreign ceiling, confused. Where was she?

“I’ll give you what you want you bastard, just stop!” She heard Jack say, but that wasn’t possible. Was it?

Jack capitulated, and Tarut grinned before dialling back the machine, bringing her back out of her own head, leaving her slumped on the table uselessly, trying to remain conscious through the fuzziness in her head and the dizziness that revealed that any more of this treatment and she might actually succumb to the damages that Tarut had mentioned. Was this real? Was this a memory?

Tarut lifted Ellian’s device once more.

“Tell me.” The Goa’uld demanded almost gently, calmly, and she felt herself losing consciousness, but she fought it.

“It’s a torture device you stupid asshole!” Jack said, glaring up at Tarut while at the same time trying to keep an eye on Carter who seemed to be struggling to stay conscious, her limbs moving as if she couldn’t help herself, like she was having a dystonic reaction to the torture device.

“What of the body switching device?” Tarut asked, confused. Looking for a moment like he was unsure what to do with the new and unexpected piece of information Jack had deceptively provided.

“Ellian never got the damned thing back through the gate. It’s still on Earth and you’ll never get your hands on it.” Jack said with a mirthless laugh just as Tarut back handed him. Jack spat blood from his mouth, his eyes turning to hers in a moment of unguarded truth. Love.

He continued to lie, his voice hoarse, the emotion on his features tearing through her just like the machine had. Just like Tarut had. But Jack needed no machine to debilitate her. This look, this complete willingness to defy this ‘god’ with lies to try to save her life. He was still protecting her. Like he always was. But she was detached, doubting the sincerity of this moment. It figured that the one moment Jack O’Neill was showing so much raw emotion when it came to her, she was unable to believe it was the truth.

Because she knew that he would never reveal so much. Especially not in front of the enemy.

“You are begging for torture O’Neill. Perhaps to get my focus off Colonel Carter?”

“You’re too scared to try that crap on me.” He scoffed, trying to ignite a reaction from Tarut. He had to goad him. To get him to respond.

“Then maybe I will torture you without my machine.” He said maliciously.

“You think _you_ can break me? You? A Goa’uld not even worthy enough to have his own fleet? A lapdog to _Ba’al_? I’m not afraid of you, Pal, so go right ahead and give it your best shot!” he knew he had to insult Tarut’s ego. Push him until he snapped.

And it was _working_.

Tarut’s eyes flashed yellow, and he gripped Ellian’s device in whitening fingers.

Jack only hoped that Tarut didn’t turn his wrath back on Carter. In fact, he was betting big that Tarut would torture _him_ in her place.

_Please God…_

“You dare insult me?!” he yelled, coming at him and back-handing him again. Jack let himself fall with the blow, staring up at the Goa’uld unflinchingly from where he’d fallen on the floor, eyes flints of steel as he looked up at Tarut in disgust.

“Of course I dare. You’re nothing but a waste of space…and I bet that Ba’al feels the same way. To him, you must be nothing more than an annoyingly pompous _Jaffa_.”

The biggest insult Jack had been able to think of was to compare the Goa’uld to a Jaffa. A slave. They saw humans and Jaffa as nothing but tools to use and to exploit.

Tarut cried out with complete dark aggression, targeting Ellian’s device on him and activating it with a feral snarl, doing exactly what Jack had hoped for.

“You will die for your insolence Tau’ri.” He growled just before he pressed the large centre button on the hand device, and a blast wave hit him harshly, throwing the Goa’uld backwards into the table where their Earthen gear still sat.

Jack fought the disorientation, feeling himself sway on his feet blearily, his focus returning with a palpable snap as he saw his own body slumped in a heap on the floor.

He was inside the host body of Tarut with the shocked Goa’uld fighting to regain equilibrium in the back of his brain.

Jack lurched forward, hoping he could do what he had shoddily planned before the snake reengaged control from the shock the sudden and unexpected switch had caused.

Jack reached mindlessly for Carter’s 9mm handgun…


	8. Chapter 8

Sam watched what was going on with muted understanding, frowning as the Goa’uld activated Ellian’s hand device. Why would he do that?

Why would he switch bodies with Jack?

They both slumped, Jack’s body falling to the floor awkwardly while the Goa’uld swayed on his feet, smashing into the table that held their equipment, the whole tray falling to the floor as he stood back upright again.

Jack had control.

The Goa’uld seemed too shocked with the new personality in his head, the switch taking the snake off guard. ‘Jack’ lunged for the sidearm at the base of Tarut’s throne, and Sam watched with horror as he lifted the gun to his own head, the oddly desperate look on Tarut’s face forcing her to watch in absolute awe.

The host, who now had Jack’s body, was muttering from beside her in Jack’s voice, a foreign language that was probably centuries old from what she knew of Ba’al and his minions.

Jack didn’t hesitate, pulling the trigger like some suicidal maniac leaping off a bridge. Tarut’s head rocked upwards from the force of the bullet that ripped through his skull, and she was oddly trapped within the thought that Jack hadn’t even stilled for a moment before essentially shooting himself. Like he was still that suicidal man from years ago after his son had died.

Jack’s body –with Tarut’s host- slumped, the same moment that Tarut hit the ground mere inches from where Jack was slumped. Sam struggled against her restraints as the blood pooled on the floor, soaking into the elegant, sovereign like clothing Tarut wore.

“Jack!” she cried out, her eyes wide on his slackened face.

He jerked awake, his dark eyes taking in her face, blinking, and she got the panicked notion that this was still Tarut’s host inside Jack’s body.

“If I ever get suicidal again carter, remind me of this moment, would you?” He murmured, lifting his still shackled arms from the sticky blood that was seeping towards him across the floor. He struggled to a sitting position, and then started to rifle through Tarut’s clothing, finding the key to his cuffs just as there were noises coming from outside the chamber. Tarut’s guards coming to check on him and his prisoners.

Sam gaped at him, her heart slowing down its frantic thumping.

“I can’t believe you just did that!” She muttered harshly as he unlocked his cuffs, coming across to her quickly to do the same for her, throwing the straps aside before he pulled the cuffs free from her weak arms. She could barely focus on his face, his image wavering above her as she felt the edges of consciousness fade. She fought to remain lucid, but she couldn’t think. Could only feel. Maybe this was just another trick of Tarut. Make her think she was free, and then…drag her back into reality.

“It was a plan.”

“Not a good one!” She responded, her voice sounding far away, like she hadn’t really even spoken. She blinked, trying to bring him into focus, but it didn’t work. He was blurry. Everything was blurry.

“One, I never really have the good plans. That’s your forte. And, two, It worked.” His voice worked into her head.

She couldn’t argue with that.

“Let’s get outta here.” He said, going over to the table a little unsteadily, side stepping over Tarut’s corpse and cringing at the gun that lay amongst the pool of blood.

Sam forced herself to sit up, the room spinning, her stomach roiling as she almost fell off the platform. Jack tucked the GDO into the pocket on his jacket and then moved back to her side, gripping her elbow as she began to fall off the table.

“Can you walk?” he asked, something in his voice telling her that he knew she wasn’t going to be able to just yet.

She didn’t respond; her head bowing as he helped her stand to her feet, slumping against his side with weakness.

“Cree!” Jack was gone abruptly, and the floor tipped under her feet. She braced her hands as she fell, just holding herself up enough not to smack her face on the floor, and she turned, seeing Jack tackle one of the Jaffa that had just come through the door, punching him in the face as he fought for dominance.

Another Jaffa entered behind him, activating his staff weapon, and Sam turned, her eyes finding the 9mm lying in Tarut’s blood. Without thought, she reached out, pulling herself towards the weapon, taking it and rolling onto her back, holding the gun with two hands as the images swayed before her.

She couldn’t focus enough, the Jaffa with the staff weapon aimed on Jack seeming to sway and split into two men. She squinted, closing one eye to try to concentrate, and then shot the Jaffa with a sigh of frustration, hoping that she would hit her target.

She did, the Jaffa falling down dead, and Jack gave a feral yell before he punched the Jaffa beneath him again, knocking him out cold. He slumped for a second before pushing himself up, swinging wide eyes to where she lay with the bloody weapon held loosely against her side, then turning to see the dead Jaffa that lay behind him.

“Nice.”

She passed out.

*******************************

 

Jack ducked down behind the closest large tree trunk, peeking out and internally cursing. He’d hoped for better chances than this –but the ‘gate had been too far away from the facility to get to before the Jaffa with their Tel’tac had arrived to head off their escape.

He watched as the angry Jaffa in control of the four other warriors ordered two of his soldiers to start looking for them, before he turned to the Jaffa that had just stood from behind the DHD, holding out his hand for the crystal he’d just taken from the device –effectively disabling their escape route.

“The killers of Tarut will not get far without the use of the Chappa’ai!” He said, motioning more of the Jaffa to pair off in search of them.

Looked like it was time for plan B.

Plan _Better_.

As soon as he figured out what that was.

All he knew was that Carter was way too out of it right now to be of much help, meaning he needed to get her to safety as quickly as possible.

The best plan was to evade capture, because he knew that any more torture –no matter what type- could only damage her further than she already was. Maybe even beyond the point of her regaining any of her previous sanity.

Faith. He had to have faith.

He turned and moved back into the darkness and away from the patrols that the leader had sent out, going back towards where he had left Carter, passed out as she was.

Getting out of the facility after she had lost consciousness hadn’t been a walk in the park. He’d had to carry her, and avoid any of the minimal Jaffa that had still been inside the facility. It was clear –and lucky for them- that most of the remaining men under Tarut’s command had been outside.

He came to the alcove where he had left Carter, hunkering down to find her exactly where he’d left her, head lolled, looking almost peaceful if it wasn’t for the paleness of her features and the blood on her hands from where she had picked up the gun he’d killed Tarut with…to save his life.

It was times like this that he was aware of the corrosion of their facade. That not everything was quite as hidden as he had thought. He looked down at her from where he crouched, his eyes taking her in as he held his weapon, waiting for the Jaffa to pass by where he had led her to safety, hoping that they wouldn’t notice him here in this tiny crevice he’d spotted from where they had exited Ba’al’s facility.

The Jaffa ran past, their armour clanking loudly in his ears as he held his breath, waiting and watching the men disappear.

“Sir…” She whispered brokenly from below him, her fingers clenching in the sleeve of his jacket, obviously having gained consciousness when he had left her to stake out the situation.

“Don’t talk.” He responded lowly, waiting for the sounds to die off before he looked back down at her pained face once more.

He turned in the tiny crevice like cave, trying to clear out some of the twigs and other debris, motioning for her to move further within the alcove.

“You okay?” He asked as they both got situated.

“Think so…” She mumbled, seeming a little out of it still –weak and groggy.

They sat up against the back wall where she shivered, their legs stretched out before them. He narrowed his eyes on her profile as she flinched from their contact as their shoulders brush before she visibly attempted to relax in his presence.

There was barely enough room inside to fit them both.

The darkness beyond was stifling, but she shivered again.

“Try to rest alright?” He murmured huskily, and she leaned her head on his shoulder, like she was too weak to do anything but that after the excitement and physical wearing their escape from the facility had been.

He wasn’t sure why he was so raw, why this feeling within him wouldn’t be quelled by having her warm and alive at his side, her head lolled back against his shoulder as she slept. He dipped his head down, breathing in her unmistakable Carter-scent, his eyes closing as he realised how close he had come to losing her…again.

He found himself running his hand over her arm, despite the fact that she had stopped shivering, her body now relaxed and calm against his side.

His lips brushed over her cheek bone, not quite a kiss, but it was the closest he could come without damning himself and her in the process.

“Sir…” she mumbled, her voice sounding a little shaky, and he pulled back slightly, continuing to run his hand up and down her covered arm in a pretend bid to keep her warm, when in actual fact, he just couldn’t stop touching her just yet.

“You’re safe.” He murmured against her ear gruffly, and he groaned when he felt her body tremble. She was just cold.

Without warning, she turned her head, her lips inches from his, eyes on his in the dim light.

His breath caught at her closeness, the way she reached up and gripped his wrist, her thumb grazing his pulse point which decided to jump at her touch –lucidity suddenly in her gaze when before there had been only vague detachment.

“Don’t ever do it again.” She whispered, her breath hitting his lips.

“Do what?” he asked, not wanting to see that fear in her eyes.

“You know.” She whispered.  He did know. By shooting himself –albeit in Tarut’s body- so willingly, he figured he had scared the crap out of her. She knew what he had almost done after Charlie’s death, knowing that he had the urge back then in his self-destruct mode, and the mindless way he had essentially ended his own life today…he could understand if she was a little freaked by the prospect. That maybe he still had those desires –even if dormant- to end his own life.

He reached up and cradled her cheek, unable to stop himself, trying to soothe her fears for him without putting it into words.

 _‘Don’t worry, I’m not that broken man anymore.’_ At least, he wasn’t on the _surface_. Underneath…well, he wasn’t sure what he was capable of if he was completely honest with himself.

He said nothing, his mind embraced by the dark thoughts of what he’d had to do to save them.

He leaned down, unable to stop himself from brushing his lips over hers, barely touching her, but touching her enough. Her fingers clenched at his wrist at the almost kiss, eyes closing slightly, and he took in her expression of heartbreaking clarity.

She opened them again, pinning them to his. He knew that was the closest he could come to touching her, to actually kissing her without condemning himself to the reality of this. He knew he couldn’t do it, but feeling the breath she expelled drifting from her lips, touching his own, allowing him to breathe her in was comforting beyond anything else. Because he could feel her alive.

He had not being lying all those years ago. He would rather die himself than lose her. And that fact had become so clear after what they had endured. Because now, he knew some of _her_ thoughts, and how much he truly meant to her. Real, true feelings.

*******************************

“Carter, I know you’re tired. But I have a plan. There is a Cargo ship near the Stargate, but to get there, we need to avoid the patrols. I need you to do this.” He said firmly, looking into her eyes, trying to gauge whether she could do this. Really. If not, then she would be putting them both in danger…but this would be their only escape.

She nodded, her features hardening to soldier mode, and he breathed a sigh of relief at the familiar, clinical expression on her face. She would do this. Because that’s what a soldier did. Picked themselves up from the brink of whatever exhaustion they faced to do what was necessary to get home.

She didn’t need to be in her right mind. She just needed to work on instinct, and habit, moving because he ordered her to do so. His perfect little soldier.

He watched her, seeing the blankness in her gaze, the way she moved; fluid and competent as they left their hid-out and tracked towards the Stargate.

Beautiful in her single-minded intent.

It took them a while to get to the Stargate where two of the Jaffa stood guard by the ship, and they ducked down. Jack assessed the situation with an avid eye and gave her a moment of rest as she breathed beside him, seeming to be a little more exhausted.

He handled the 9mm he had taken from her limp hand and had cleaned off as much of the blood as possible, knowing that there were only three bullets left in this clip.

“As soon as they are down, follow me to the Cargo ship.” He said on a low voice, seeing her swallow, her eyes flickering slightly before she nodded. Her reactions were too expected. Too visceral.

He couldn’t think too deeply on that yet though. Not until they got that ship and got the hell off this rock.

He moved from her side, circling the clearing closer to where the two guards stood warily, and he aimed his weapon, shooting the first one before he charged the second, who spun his staff weapon, letting off a few shots towards him, the tree to his left cracking and exploding in fire and smoke. He dropped to one knee and aimed at the Jaffa, shooting him quickly, knowing that the other Jaffa would come running.

“Carter. We gotta go!” He yelled, watching as she came out of the tree line and jogged towards him, her eyes blank, like she was in some simulation. Like that ‘Doom’ version of the GameKeeper chairs, just moving with what the game said.

They moved into the Cargo ship, and Jack immediately slid into the pilot chair, powering the ship up as fast as he could, glancing at her as she stood by his chair, her hand on the seat, not sitting down like she should have…like she was once more waiting for something to turn bad.

He ignored her, taking off and plotting a course for the nearest planet…


	9. Chapter 9

After they had escaped into hyperspace, he wordlessly allowed her to retreat into the ring room. He guessed that she just needed _space_ after everything.

A part of him wanted to demand she look at him, to see him and not see what that _former_ -god Tarut had twisted her memories and fantasies into, spreading them out for him to see like some kind of sick card game, moving facts and blurring them with fictitious scenario after scenario, each more decimating to her.

He turned, seeing her sitting on top of one of the Jaffa transport boxes in the cargo bay, knees drawn up to her chest, cheek rested there, lost in her own mind.

She was exhausted, still shaky from the mind probing and the harsh way she had begun to doubt even her own mind –her eyes still fading from reality.

They had decimated her.

He would drag her back from this precipice. He swore he would.

He got up from the controls, moving swiftly into the back room. Her head snapped up, eyes on his almost suspiciously and he sighed, feeling himself grow angry.

He slowed, putting his hands up, ignoring his deeply-seated temper which strived to take control.

“You’re safe here. You know that right?” he asked mildly, burying his anger deep. Her eyes flickered over him, nodding almost like it was what she was _supposed_ to do. The reaction she was _supposed_ to give.

“Carter…you know that, right?” he asked again more forcefully, hearing the steely note of his voice, wanting to hear her say it.

“Yes Sir.” She struggled to say.

Another habitual answer. Jesus. Tarut really had destroyed her mind. Like a part of her was half expecting this to be another skewed memory. Another warped fantasy.

“Where are we going?” she asked, tipping her head slightly, her shaking fingers reaching up to drag through her hair, dried from sweat and tears.

She was unravelled. He could see that in her eyes. The haunted look each time she looked at him, as if wishing for this to end, before the bad part inevitably encroached on this safe moment.

“Home. The navigation computer says there is a planet not too far from here. Hopefully it has a Stargate.” He said, reverting to professionalism.

He had seen the pain, -had _felt_ it- each time she had killed him. Each word he had spoken that decimated her feelings. Each moment of torture he had inflicted in her mind, viewed by him and by Tarut. Like he was some director of a movie. Cutting scenes and placing them with others. Creasing the purity of the movie with darkness and blood and pain.

He wanted to kill the bastard all over again.

“And if it doesn’t?” she asked shakily.

“Then we find one that does.” He said firmly. She seemed to ignore him, her eyes once more looking beyond him, the torment in those blue depths stealing his breath. He turned to leave her alone, hearing her move from behind him, turning just as she came to him, her eyes filling with tears as she reached up and cupped his face, looking into his eyes.

“You were dead.” She whispered.

“No.” He argued, circling her wrists with his fingers, trying to ground himself as well as her. She pulled her hands free, slicing shaking fingers through her hair with absolute frustration.

“God, I can’t… _I can’t_ …”

“You’re okay Carter. I promise you.” He vowed, unable to hide the depths of his emotion for her as he watched her break apart before him, eyes wild, searching his features for truth but seeming to be unable to find any.

He needed her to find truth.

Her eyes kept darting back and forth, trying to see something in his eyes. Some proof to latch onto that this _was_ real and that she really was okay.

“Jack…” she sobbed and he felt his control waver. He pulled her into his arms, crushing her against his chest, his eyes closing as he felt her shudder, her hands gripping the back of his shirt so tightly he swore he could feel the threads begin to tear.

He didn’t pull her away though, gathering her to him like she was his life-line, feeling himself shake with the realisation that every inch of the pain she was feeling was because of him. Because of what losing him would do to her. What she had seen creasing in her mind, truth and reality blurred beneath death and destruction.

“You’re okay.” He whispered fiercely again, clutching her to him, his hands balled into fisted against her back.

He wasn’t sure she truly _was_.

She pulled back slightly, her tears smeared by the material of his shirt, eyes red-rimmed, features tense with strain.

Her eyes skimmed to his lips, assessing him, still holding him there with tight fingers twisted in his shirt.

“I…don’t want to wake up if this isn’t…” she trailed off, swallowing back more tears, eyes moving up to his, conveying what she meant. _If this isn’t real_.

“It’s real.” He murmured, cupping her face with a moment of hesitation, searching her features for belief. For _faith_. He wiped at her cheek with his thumb, knowing he needed to back away before he did something epically stupid.

Like kiss her. Prove to her this was real.

She didn’t give him an option, her lips brushing his lightly, keeping him in place. He knew that he wouldn’t have been able to move anyway, his actions lagging behind his thoughts even though he knew that they had to stop.

They were home free. They had escaped. They would go home and everything would be fine.

They couldn’t do this.

And yet, as her lips became bolder on his, and he parted his for her, kissing her back, allowing her tentative exploration to continue, he knew that he would be damned when they returned home, because he didn’t want to stop this.

He needed it just as much as she seemed to. So he cupped the back of her head, cradling her in his palm, slanting his lips across hers, deepening the connection and taking her control away, her almost hesitant kiss replaced by one that was full of unfulfilled passion and longing, of pain and desire. Of _need_.

There was no sudden moment where they lost their clothes this time, so real that Jack even struggled to get her shirt free from her pants, and she fumbled with his belt buckle like they were both nervous teenagers about to experience their first tense time.

They were real. For once they were real.

They ended up on the floor, the only thing beneath them to soften the hard floor his BDU jacket that was torn and useless now.

He slid his hands down her bare thighs, opening her to his gaze, settling before her as he slid his hands outwards, moulding his mouth to her opening, tongue flicking out to soothe over her clit. She jerked slightly from the first touch, her fingers dancing over his scalp, not quite touching him, hesitating even as he began to stroke her between her legs with his tongue; tasting her, wetting her.

This wasn’t only to bring her pleasure, it felt too forbidden to really enjoy this completely and lose himself in tasting her like he wanted to, this was to ready her. To make her wet enough so he could slide inside her, bury his face in the curve of her shoulder and neck, hide from the world as he thrust into her. So far away from home, yet the rules of Earth trying to insert themselves from the place where he had locked them.

She was barely touching him, her thighs shaking as she arched under him, and he flexed his fingers on her thigh, stilling her, his eyes drifting closed as he could feel the soft flesh under his lips and tongue, feel the tightness as he dipped his tongue into her opening, then laved back up to her clit. She jerked again, a soft sigh released into the stagnant air that felt like it was pressing down on them in the cargo bay.

He didn’t want to stop. Didn’t want to make this less than it was by doing this quick, but he felt as if at any moment the world would crash in all around them, disrupt the way the ether seemed to be paused, waiting for everything to jolt back into motion again.

So he pulled his mouth away, seeing the way she glistened from his saliva and what he hoped were her own juices.

He lifted himself up over her, looking down at her face, wanting to close his eyes against the raw emotion obvious in her eyes as she gripped onto his forearm like some life-line, that if she let go of her tight grip on him she would spiral off away from him, and that it was the thing she feared the most. Not some far off court-martial if they did this. Not some rule that had dictated them. Just drifting from him with no safety line to draw her back.

But he didn’t want to close his eyes to the reality of her. Didn’t want to imagine some far off place where they could do this with happiness, their hearts beating as one as they explored the other with gentle touches and all the time they would ever need.

This wasn’t some fairy tale, and trying to make it into that would only make this feel like a dream. And he much preferred reality. The uncertainty, the messiness, the absolute feeling that this wasn’t right or _sanctioned_. He needed that. He had never liked the idea of this being some sugar-coated fantasy.

He pressed forward into her, situating his cock at her wet entrance, pushing insistently against her tight flesh until it gave under the pressure, his way thankfully smoothed a little bit by the moisture his mouth had left behind.

He didn’t ask her if she was okay, didn’t ease her into it, just looked into her eyes, because he knew that her eyes would say what she needed to say. He could read her eyes. Just not her words. He dipped his head to get closer to her, and in a bid to tear his gaze from hers. It was unexpected how her eyes managed to tear him apart when nothing else had ever been able to.

He was easy at first, a few slow thrusts to stretch her, the pressure easing off slightly.

He pumped into her short and hard, beginning a rhythm, feeling like this was the biggest mistake he would ever make, and yet a mistake he couldn’t really live without.

Her warmth surrounded him, dragging at his flesh, tightening and moulding to his hardness, such a contradiction as her soft walls squeezed around him, enveloping him willingly on each deep thrust.

He needed this -just as badly as she did –and yet, he still felt like he was taking advantage of her in her current vulnerable state.

He made himself meet her gaze again, made himself feel the raw intensity that one look bloomed within him, seeing that her eyes were lucid, searing him as she allowed him to surge into her over and over again, her fingers still gripping him, eyes full of bitter-sweet tears that she was refusing to let fall.

She knew this was wrong too.

 _‘Not wrong –just not allowed,’_ his mind argued.

Fissures of pleasure climbed up his spine on each thrust, his body jerking, not only from his oncoming release, a swift wave rushing at him, but from the bone-deep mental and physical exhaustion wearing at his straining muscles, pulling at him, threatening to short-circuit his movements –urging him to stop this of his own accord before his body just quit on him and _made_ him stop.

But he couldn’t.

It only took him a few more thrusts, her quaking walls dragging at his flesh, the friction causing sensations to stutter through his aching muscles.

He dipped his head to her neck, breathing her in, feeling her soft sighs puff against the side of his neck as she wrapped her arms around him. He shuddered in the throes of orgasm, pumping his essence into her willing, soft body –the pleasure of release lashing at him so sweetly as he emptied inside her, her answering moan testament to her own orgasm which sent shock through him. He hadn’t thought she would come from such a rushed, erratic moment, although, he guessed she had been wanting this to happen for about as long as he had from the fantasies and dreams about them he had unwillingly witnessed.

He pressed against her, -his body giving in to the pull of gravity despite the fact they were hurtling through space in a busted up cargo ship- and she gripped onto him. He had that feeling of being her life-line again, and he didn’t really mind. He could feel the thudding of her heart against his chest, not quite in time with his, the beating making his own body quake as he focused completely on the feel of her heart. Erratic but slowing. Calming in the aftermath of this unrivalled moment of rightness. Of _realness_.

“God…” he mumbled, somehow levering himself off her enough to pull some of his weight from her, his legs still entangled with hers as he relaxed back down, his arm still under her to soften where she was lying.

He couldn’t think of what to say, glancing at her as she rested against his shoulder, still holding onto him like she couldn’t do anything but that, feeling that an apology was kind of superfluous when she had been the one who had initiated this. Not that he was complaining at this moment.

He knew he shouldn’t have let it happen, but that fell under the category of a regret, and he had always disagreed with the idea of even _having_ regrets in the first place. He refused to start giving into the pull of them now.

He of all people knew that traumatic events could compel people to act by the pull of feelings and emotions, and not by rational thought.

This fit that description, and they would both probably realise the enormity of this moment later, but he was studiously avoiding truly thinking about the ramifications and what it could mean for them. Professionally and personally.

Before he could muster any kind of words, the controls gave a pulse, telling him that the planet he had plotted was in range, and they would need to drop the ship out of hyper-space soon.

They still had to find the way home, and this planet may not even have a Stargate. He had always considered that luck was what had gotten them this far without being killed, so he would have to rely on the unreliable… _again_. They were adrift in this scenario, and they had to find their own way.

Where were the rules and guidelines now?

He watched as she sat up and pulled her clothing back together, her back to him, focusing too intently on pulling her boots back on, tightening and straightening the laces while he watched, resigned to the obvious fact that she was pulling away from what they had done. Maybe even pulling away from reality once more to hide away from the attack of that machine. Like some part of her thought this would still twist into something dirty and unattractive. Something distorted and crude.

“Carter…” he began, not even knowing what else he could say besides her name. How to draw her back to him. He wanted to ask her to stay with him. To stay focused. But he wasn’t sure if it was even possible.

“I’m fine.” She whispered, a little distantly, as if she was speaking some predefined script. Something she wanted to believe as much as he wanted to believe.

But he wasn’t convinced.

He nodded, forced to accept her words for now, moving swiftly into the forward compartment dropping the ship out of hyper-space, finding a planet on the horizon. He glanced behind him, seeing that Sam was nowhere to be found, and he sighed, feeling like a complete asshole for what had happened between them.

He ignored his conscience for now, relieved when Sam returned from the bathroom, her arms around herself, eyes downcast, still looking like she didn’t believe this was even remotely real. Waiting for the twists to begin.

Her eyes were focused on something that seemed a great distance from the here and now, glassy and lost, her state deteriorating, taking everything in as if in a detached mind frame.

He wasn’t sure what to say to draw her out of that, so he said nothing, determined to get her home as fast as he could and back to safety so she could start to heal from all the emotional trauma she’d been forced to withstand.

The thing that scared him the most was that even when she glanced at him, she seemed to see nothing but a ghost.

*******************************

 

The planet seemed to be mostly uninhabited around the Stargate, and Jack landed the ship as close as he could get to the platform the gate was on. He ushered her from the ship, glancing at her every few moments to try assure himself she was alright, at least physically. He fisted his hand when he thought to reach for her, quelling the desire, thinking she seemed to need space. Her arms were still wrapped around her waist, eyes following her footsteps on the rocky ground as they ate up the distance between them and the ‘gate.

“Carter?” he asked, noticing that it took her a few moments to break free from whatever thoughts were dominating her mind to actually looking at him, squinting against the sunlight, eyes assessing his features as if waiting for fissures to form that would reveal the shadows of reality, exposing the lies and the distortions of torture and pain.

God. She wasn’t going to be getting over this any time soon, and he felt sick. Felt like he had failed her by letting her get hurt so badly. He should have gotten free sooner. Should have lured Tarut into using the device sooner.

“Isn’t this the part where you tell me I’m going to alright?” she asked, as if waiting for him to say just that, or something very similar.

“That what you want me to say?” he asked, mildly, turning his attention back on the ever decreasing space between himself and the DHD. He caught the confused furrowing of her brow before he looked away, as if she was having trouble following the flow of the conversation.

“You’re not supposed to ask me what the next line is.” She mumbled.

“Yeah, well…reality tends to be a little more chaotic and unpredictable than some movie.” He responded caustically, knowing he shouldn’t be so hard on her. Knowing he had to help her, but, he knew that going on with what she thought was a delusion couldn’t really help her. So he did what he did best. Defied convention.

“It’s not a movie.”

“Then what is it?” He asked, curious to know what she thought was happening here. If she thought it was just another memory that she couldn’t recall having. Another fantasy that she thought would never come true, although, if she believed this hot, sunlit plain was some fantasy then she really did need to get her head read.

She didn’t respond for a moment, seeming to contemplate her surroundings.

“I remember this place.” She said softly and he paused, looking around for a moment, realising she was right. They had been here before. Which wasn’t about to help him. Because if she had been here before, she could believe that Tarut was just pulling some thread of a vague memory to twist into something insidious like all the others. She was smart enough to know that anything that lay in her head –even dormant- could be corrupted.

“It’s not a memory Carter. This is reality.” He said angrily, stopping and grabbing her arms, turning her forcibly to face him, and the expression on her face was a look that said clearly that she had been waiting for something to twist and change, and he had just given it to her, giving credence to her fears and suspicions. That Tarut was in control now. Not her.

He pulled back abruptly, disgusted that he was handling this all wrong. That he was just giving her what she thought were the next “lines” of this story.

Fuck.

He continued to walk, not waiting for her, knowing that he had to get away from her before he said something more in anger that entrenched her more in the belief that this was merely another delusion set up to hurt her. He jammed his fingers down into the DHD, dialling the Earth address a little too forcefully.

She wandered closer, standing in his periphery as the ‘gate whooshed to life, and every deluded belief in his head he’d had seemed to be swallowed by the blue wave.

That she really was okay. That she would bounce back from this like everything else.

He closed his eyes momentarily as he realised the truth. This wasn’t all those other times. This was something more insidious than a physical injury. This was psychological. Something that had affected her much worse than any of the other mental wounds she had experienced over the years, all that poignant pain coalescing into something that was completely overwhelming every coping mechanism she had carefully placed down as defences against attack.

She was unravelled. Her reactions and rationale stunted by intense uncertainty and confusion. What had happened between them was just a product of that confusion. Of her reaching for something she had been denied to try to salvage the mental sufficiencies of _before_. Like she was aching to hold onto something she had never had but had been a constant source of solidity.

That being _him_.

She was floating in a vast sea of confusion, and he was all that was keeping her afloat.

She wasn’t fine. And he couldn’t let her cleave to him when it would stunt her own recovery. He would need to leave her when they returned to Earth. He knew it as assuredly as he knew that he loved her.

She couldn’t learn to swim on her own if he kept holding her up. He had to destroy the safety she associated with him, and make her see that she was strong enough to handle this without his influence. Without his protection.

That she always had been. He somehow knew that leaving her was somewhat of a protection in itself, because she needed to stay above the surface of this dependence.

He lifted the radio to his lips, knowing the protocol. Ellian would have told the SGC they had been compromised when he’d awoken back in his own body, so he organised a team to meet them here, turning to speak low into the radio to express the need for medical assistance and for them to make it quick.

Breaking her delusion was not going to be a quick process, and he wanted her to get help as soon as he could.

He wasn’t sure he would be able to handle it if this was a permanent thing. He had never truly understood the true blessing it was to have a lucid, healthy Carter. He just hoped that the ‘Carter’ resilience kicked in some time soon.

The most screwed thing in his mind was that he had been so desperate for her to question everything and anything that Tarut threw at her, but now, when she was convinced she was resisting yet another one of Tarut’s mind-fucks, he was angry. He ignored his thoughts, knowing that they were severely unhelpful. He was useless to her…as usual. He’d never been good at the emotional stuff. Even his own emotional turmoil was buried deep within him where no light could reach, some of which he had yet to deal with.

Dealing with her emotions wasn’t something he was an expert on, especially with what she had been through. No, he would get her home, and then, he could leave it to the professionals. Getting her home was his true priority right now. Anything after that…he would have to deal with when the time came.


	10. Chapter 10

Daniel watched as Sam stared off into space, looking forlorn and a little lost, like the smallest thing might unhinge her. He didn’t want to trigger anything, and from what jack said about what had happened to them, almost anything could be construed by her as unreal or a delusion.

Doctor Mckenzie was coming in later to do a Psych Evaluation on her, and Daniel feared that he would come back to them with a report that said that she wasn’t even close to rational or sane.

She had been through an ordeal, and seeing as her mind had been played with more times than any of them could count, Daniel had high hopes that she would bounce back from this too. Eventually.

Pete had been asking –then demanding- where his Fiancee was, and Daniel had kept putting him off, saying she was on mission and couldn’t be contacted. He had of course called him on it, saying that she would have told him if she would be off-world like this for an extended duration and that Daniel should be with her seeing as they were on the same team.

He wasn’t a Detective for nothing.

After telling Pete she was back Earth side, the cop had demanded to see her, or, in the very least, talk to her. She seemed lucid enough to make a decision about that right now, although Daniel really didn't want to push her.

One more phone call from Pete and he might just murder the cop though, so he relented, sighing before calling her name.

She looked at him almost blankly, studying him for some kind of inconsistency.

“Pete has been calling.” He said, watching her, gauging her reaction to know whether or not he should suggest that her significant other be allowed to come and visit her here before she was moved.

Her eyes flashed with some reminder –some moment he couldn’t even begin to translate flickering behind her eyes that had her jerking from the bed, ripping the IV line out of her arm.

He stumbled back as she lurched towards the door weakly, the drugs in her system worn off enough to allow her equilibrium to return to her weary limbs.

“He killed him!” She cried, making a move for the door, only stopped from reaching her destination by Teal’c who stepped up to block her. She spun back towards him, panicked, eyes wild as she sought an escape route. To do what Daniel wasn’t sure. The drugs claimed her again though and she swayed, only stopped from falling by him as he caught her against him, wrapping his arms tight around hers to stop her flailing limbs.

She sobbed, eyes tormented, as Jack shot through the door, having obviously heard her voice from out in the hall where he’d been talking to the Doctor.

“What happened?” He demanded sharply.

“Nothing…she said something about someone killing someone…” Daniel said, his voice full of concern as he turned back to look at Sam who was slumped against his chest, sobbing brokenly. She lifted her head, seeing Jack there and pushing Daniel away and launching herself at Jack. He caught her, stumbling slightly as he enveloped her, feeling completely lost with her sudden need for him, patting her awkwardly on the shoulder as he turned helpless eyes to Daniel.

Daniel’s eyes widened at the embrace, seeing the way Sam was clinging to the General like he was her only concern. Daniel had never seen her more desperate for Jack’s presence before.

“He killed you…” She sobbed out against his shoulder               and Jack shook his head.

“No. He didn’t. It wasn’t real Carter.” He soothed, trying to pull back even when she gripped him harder. He unwound himself from her and set her back, feeling uncomfortable with the whole situation, especially seeing as Daniel, Teal’c and a whole slew of infirmary staff were watching.

Jack ignored the other people in the room, moving her to the bed and forcing her down on the mattress.

“Don’t leave.” She implored, looking up at him with wide eyes, drinking him in as if she was hoping he wouldn’t just disappear.

“Relax Carter.” He murmured, looking up at the nurse that stood close by, motioning to her as he settled his hand on Carter’s shoulder, trying to keep her calm and rational for long enough for the staff to administer the sedative. Again. He really didn’t want to have to sedate her continuously, but, at this moment, she needed it. Just until they could get her into a situation where the triggers could be controlled.

The nurse moved forward.

“Sam…the nurse is going to give you a little something to help you sleep.” Daniel said softly, reaching out and holding her other shoulder as her eyes started to dart, continuously settling on him.

She moved to get up, to resist, but they both held her.

“No!” she argued, shoving Daniel’s hand off her and lurching to her feet.

“Carter...” He began, reaching out and pinning her arms at her side, forcing her back against his chest as the nurse approached.

“Please please don’t…” She begged, but he held her fast, keeping her still as the nurse injected her with the sedative.

She stepped back abruptly and Carter continued to struggle, but slowly sagging, her body slumping as she still feebly protested.

“It’s alright Carter.” He murmured next to her ear, soothing her as she began to sag against him.

“Daniel…” He murmured and Daniel stepped forward, helping him lift her onto the bed. She gripped onto his forearm, looking up at him, trying to keep him in her sights even though her lids began to close, fighting to keep awake despite the drugs affecting her for the second time.

“I don’t want to sleep.” She resisted, her eyes pleading, but then she passed out.

“What did you say to her?” Jack demanded gruffly, not taking his eyes from her face, wanting to reach out and smooth the errant strands of hair from across her forehead.

“I just told her that Pete’s been calling…” Daniel trailed off at the dark glare that Jack shot his way.

“The last memory that Tarut twisted, Pete killed me in cold blood. Obviously she thinks it really happened.” He said, turning back away from Daniel. He hadn’t known of course, but still, Jack was angry that it had been done to her in the first place.

After changing and having a medical –forced medical- he’d reported to General Hammond who had taken over the base in his absence, giving the General the low down of what had happened.

He hadn’t given exact details.

Hadn’t explained about exactly what sort of memories Tarut had twisted –but what he had divulged had been enough.

The horror on General Hammond’s face as Jack had told him the extent of the damage done to Carter –his favourite genius- had been palpable.

After the personal report, he’d been ordered to take an extended period of leave –until he recovered a little more.

Jack didn’t think he _needed_ recovery time. He really felt fine. Well… except for a few flashes of emotion that weren’t his own from being connected to Carter’s mind and feeling what she felt.

Instead of focusing on the remnants of her emotions, he’d asked Daniel about Ellian, learning that the body-switcher was now working closely with Thor to figure out how to counteract the genetic problems his people faced, and that Thor had requested his help. Something about his Ancient Gene.

He turned away from Sam who lay limply on the bed, motioning Daniel towards the door. He turned to face him in the hall, having already made his decision about what he planned to do now.

“I’m going to help Thor.” He said, meeting the younger man’s eyes. Daniel crossed his arms over his chest, leaning slightly forward, glancing back towards the room where Sam lay sedated.

“What about Sam?” he asked, lifting his eyes back to Jack’s, his brows furrowing.

“McKenzie is taking over her care for a while to help her. You and Teal’c are here.” He replied, giving Daniel the spiel he had worked on mentally before he had thought of telling Daniel. He had known the Archaeologist wouldn’t think it was a good idea.

“I’m surprised you even care enough about Ellian’s people to help them. He did steal your body.” Daniel pointed out ever-so-helpfully.

“His people are suffering. I would think that you of all people would understand.” He said gruffly.

“I do understand, but you aren’t usually the type…”

“I’m doing it for Thor. He asked me specifically to help Daniel. You want me to say no?” he asked, letting the edge of impatience and condescension show in his voice. He turned to leave, knowing that discussing it any longer would only strive to piss him off.

“Are you sure you’re doing this for the right reasons?” Daniel asked from behind him. He stilled for a moment, before continuing to walk down the hallway.

“Are there ever right reasons?” he asked, not even bothering to turn back to look at Daniel. Now more than before he knew that he had to leave for Carter’s sake. He had almost reconsidered leaving, but, he knew that he was right. If she continued to have that unhealthy dependence on him to be ‘okay’ she would never be able to recover properly.

He would leave. He would help Ellian and Thor. Then maybe…maybe he would see about taking that extended leave that Hammond had suggested…


	11. Chapter 11

She hadn’t seen him for weeks.

She remembered she had been afraid of taking her eyes off him when they had first returned, knowing that she had been inconsolable and desperate to never lose sight of him again. Like losing sight of him would bring about her worst fears. That he would be gone for good.

They had tried to close the curtains, obscuring him from view. Pete standing there instead of Jack. And all she had been able to remember was that Pete had shot him. Pete had hurt him.

She had watched –his tormented eyes on hers as they had held her down- the sedation finally kicking in, her vision swimming with tears and blurriness from the drug taking effect, making her image of him waver disturbingly.

She’d fought to remain lucid, but the drugs had won, drawing her into a darkness that was all consuming.

He’d been there when she’d awoken, eyes hollow and staring, and she’d just watched him, unable to drag her eyes away but unable to find the voice to tell him she was awake.

He’d known though. Maybe sensing a tension in her form, a change in her breathing, her fear permeating the very air that surrounded her and –subsequently- him as well.

His dark eyes had darted to her face, eyes locking on hers –the powerful relief in his gaze tangible.

He would have never revealed that _before_. Would never have looked at her with such an unguarded expression. His fingers had rested on the bed, close to hers, but not quite touching –a sad resignation in his eyes as he’d studied her face, as if assuring _himself_ that she truly was okay. Physically at least.

“We’re home.” He’d said softly, saying so much more with the gentle tone he’d adopted than the actual words themselves. A tone she only heard when something traumatic had transpired and she needed gentle over firm and commanding. He always seemed to know when she needed that.

She’d nodded, even though she doubted his words, knowing that words of her own were a little beyond her capability as the emotional detachment –disjointed moments of lucidity and hazy uncertainty- she’d felt on the ride home was fading underneath some stilted semblance of normalcy.

He hadn’t remained, and in the days that followed, she’d clung to his words, forcing herself to hear his voice in her head to remind herself she really _was_ home, even when everything felt like a waking nightmare.

Instead of Tarut, it was Doctor MacKenzie. Instead of a twisted torture machine hooked to her mind, a volley of questions asked in a seemingly soothing manner that probed and delved into her mental sufficiencies. It seemed just as intrusive as that memory device had been.

She wasn’t sure why she hadn’t seen Jack (if he was okay like McKenzie and Daniel kept telling her) and why he had stayed away, but she was beginning to think that he thought she was better off without him here.

She guessed she had developed quite an ‘unhealthy’ attachment to the General. Maybe he was right to stay away. McKenzie had explained that it was probably for the best that Jack give her the space due to what they had gone through together.

She didn’t like it, always questioning if this was indeed truth and reality, and she fought against the need to scream at them and tell them that she needed Jack here, because seeing him –touching him- assured her that he _was_ alive and her twisted memories had been false –no matter how real they had seemed-was important.

But she hadn’t screamed at them, had remained calm on the outside despite her fiercely determined need to ask where jack was. The rolling waves of chaotic thoughts within threatening to derail her sanity. She _needed_ to see him. It was almost a debilitating compulsion.

She understood that they were attempting to pull her out of her fears that he didn’t exist anymore –how they thought to do that without his presence she didn’t know.

Each night, nightmares ripped into her rational thoughts, waking her in cold sweats as the jerked in the hospital bed under constant supervision. She would dream of everything tarut had done to her, her mind fighting to differentiate between truth and lies, and she would awake in tears, crying brokenly, calling Jack’s name, begging for the torture to stop, the memories to stop repeating like broken records in her head.

Each day she sat quietly staring out the window, Mckenzie coming in to speak with her, trying to open her mind up to help her, but she couldn’t even think straight, confused, lost. Daniel would come then, or Teal’c, and they would go for a walk, patient presences that no more helped than McKenzie did.

What she needed was Jack. Not Daniel with his gentle questions, not Teal’c with his silent strength.

She lifted her head when the door opened and Daniel stepped inside the room, smiling at her softly and approaching, sitting on the chair beside hers where she sat curled up silently by the window, watching the trees outside and the dull sunlight that streamed down between grey clouds, fighting to get through the overcast horizon. She felt like she was trying to do the same. Shine through a mist of confusion.

“How are you feeling Sam?” he asked as he settled there, glancing out the window for a moment before focusing those blue eyes on her once more.

She said nothing for a moment, looking down at her hands, trying to come up with an answer that would be acceptable.

“I don’t think I like that question.” She ended up saying, dissuading herself from sticking to some predefined script. Daniel would understand that. And maybe that would convince them that she was close to fine. “I…feel like I’m always struggling with how to answer it. Either the expected, scripted response of ‘I’m fine’ or…how I really feel.”

She turned her eyes once more to the grey sky, willing it to rain, because she really didn’t feel like going for a walk today. She was sick of the careful questions and the slow non-strenuous walks.

“Let’s just say that I want to know how you really feel. You don’t have to be ‘fine’ all the time.” He said softly, reaching out and taking her hand, stilling it as she fumbled with the edge of the sweater she wore. Her eyes lifted to his, the sincere concern there giving her pause.

“I don’t really know.” She admitted, feeling the sting of tears burn the backs of her eyes.

“That’s okay too.” He said soothingly, his tone making her want to cry all the more, which she knew was completely uncharacteristic. Damn him. She hated that he could make her feel like breaking apart with only a few words.

“I really want to be fine.” She said softly, her voice catching, her fingers squeezing around his, as if aching to have that life line that Jack had been for her. But he wasn’t here, and Daniel wasn’t enough. He just wasn’t.

“I know.” He replied, not moving to release her hand, and despite knowing that what she needed Daniel couldn’t give her, she accepted the slight comfort.

“I miss him.” She said softly, not daring to look up at him when she confessed such a weakness. That she missed Jack O’Neill. Had she actually just admitted that?

“He’ll be back.” He said assuredly, and she met his gaze again, testing him for sincerity. Would he be back?

She gazed out the window, seeing that pale shaft of sunlight finally break through the clouds.


	12. Chapter 12

The city was a thriving metropolis, the people in good spirits despite the anomaly in their DNA that prevented restful slumber they now recognised as a symptom of Nir'ti's manipulations. Daniel found Jack in a meeting hall with Ellian, now looking well rested due to being the first tested with the inoculations the Asgard had crafted with the DNA machine they retrieved from that planet and Jack's Ancient gene, and Thor. Jack was haunted with his own dark thoughts, obvious from the sleeplessness in his expression and the tension knotting his brow. His face was rough with a few days growth of beard, giving him an almost haggard appearance, wearing SG clothing with one of the dark jackets unbuttoned that the Alerians wore to combat the colder weather during the evenings.

"Jack?" Daniel ventured, greeting the other two with nods and respectful smiles. Jack turned, his eyes growing troubled for a moment, like he ached to ask something but repressed the urge, his eyes revealing it all. He wanted to ask after Sam. Something inside him obviously thought she was better off without his presence screwing up her recovery from what Ba'al's lackey had done to her.

Daniel knew better.

Jack turned to the other two.

"We will continue to monitor the boy O'Neill." Thor said, obviously speaking of Ellian’s young son who had been given the treatment. They waited for it to take effect.

"I'll be right back." Thor nodded and wandered to the Asgard platform that had been erected in the building, a more advanced piece of equipment that caught any minor complication on the physiology of the boy sleeping on the cot. Ellian turned, a constant vigil over his son while Jack turned to Daniel.

"It's Sam."

Panic lit in the older man’s eyes, fear there.

"Is she..." Jack swallowed and met his eyes, steeling himself, his features turning emotionless. "What is it?"

"You have to come back Jack. She needs you there..." He began to say, seeing the moment that Jack shut himself down to this conversation. Sam was okay and that was all he needed to hear. Unless she was on her death bed, Daniel doubted he would return to Earth by choice.

Jack sighed and rubbed his hand over his jaw.

"I have to stay here until the experimentation is over..." He said, giving the answer that was the most impersonal.

"You don’t have to be here...You've done your part." Daniel argued.

"I'm staying here a few more days." He responded unyieldingly.

"She calls for you in her sleep. Wakes up from nightmares about you dying. So inconsolable she's sedated. She needs you there Jack. Her recovery is at stake here."

Jack turned, backing off a few steps.

“Go back to Earth Daniel.” He said gruffly, and Daniel watched as he walked away stiffly, his whole demeanour tensed. He wasn’t going to come back with him, and he felt like he had failed Sam by coming here and not bringing Jack back. Didn’t he know that Sam’s recovery –and maybe even his own- hinged on them being _together_?

She had refused to see Pete, and Daniel himself had to break it to the cop that he didn’t think Sam would ever be ready to pick up where they had left off. That she was too mentally screwed up to be able to come back from what had happened to be able to deal with the relationship she had with the man. Sam needed _Jack_. Not that he had told Pete that, but he suspected the younger man had known. Like he had been expecting things to end with Sam sooner or later. Daniel guessed that non of them had really expected it to last…not even Pete.

He shook his head angrily and turned, knowing that Jack wouldn’t talk to him again today. He was of more use with Sam…

*******************************

_Sam felt a presence behind her as she sat at the window of her room, a place she sat often. Usually, she could hear when someone came to see her, the door opening, a nurse telling her she had a visitor like she was some kind of vulnerable little girl who might be triggered by Daniel and Teal’c’s visit despite the fact that they visited every day._

_It was night time. They never came at night time._

_She turned, expecting Daniel and Teal’c. Instead, she found something she had not expected. The door had not opened, the hall beyond still dark, and there, standing before the small window in the panel stood Jack O’Neill, seeped in shadow._

_She blinked, but he remained where he was, his hands in his pockets, standing there so naturally._

_“Jack?” she whispered, her heart beating harder in her chest at seeing him here. How had he come to be here? It made no sense. They would have told her he was coming, Warned her to get her ready to see him, in case she was triggered by him._

_But they hadn’t. He stepped forward into a beam of moonlight, his features coming into stark, sharp relief. She gasped, realising that nothing was natural about this._

_His face was gaunt, lips colourless, eyes sunken in their sockets. His BDU’s were crumpled, the same ones he had worn when they had been under Tarut’s control. They had the same blood smears at the collar when they had hurt him._

_“Ever wonder why they won’t let you see me Carter?” He asked, his voice slightly distorted, like he wasn’t really here. She stood and turned away from him, unable to look at him like that. Like he was dead._

_His hands ran up her arms from behind and she shivered._

_“Because I’m dead.” He whispered in her ear, cold breath wafting over the side of her face, chilling her._

_“This isn’t real.” She said, lifting her hands and placing them over her ears, pulling away from his touch._

_“Sure about that?” He asked, his voice in her head now, echoing. She couldn’t get away from him._

_She turned and watched with her hands still over her ears, wide-eyed as he sunk to his knees, blood dribbling from his mouth now, his hand extended to her as he fell in slow motion, beseeching her with his eyes to help him as he crumpled._

_“Help…me…” he mouthed and she shook her head, tears raking her face, body shuddering with denial and grief._

_He was on the floor at her feet now, motionless, eyes sightless and she rushed to his side, unable to stay away while he suffered, dropping to her knees beside him. She could feel no heartbeat as she pressed shaking fingers to the side of his neck, her own heartbeat strong in her ears, frantic as she fought to think._

_This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real._

_He blinked up at her and smiled patronisingly, but his heart still wasn’t beating._

_“You can’t save me…” He whispered as he faded away and she found herself alone on the floor, her knees up to her chest, sobbing as she realised that maybe he was right. Maybe she had never had the capability to save him. Maybe she didn’t always make it in time._

_Maybe this time he was really gone…_

She jerked away, sunlight filtering in through the window pane, cutting through her nightmare. She reached up, tears still on her face, her throat sore. Had she been calling out in her sleep?

Wasn’t the first time she had woken herself from a bad dream with her own cries.

She sat up and ran a hand over her face, wiping the wetness away, her face feeling tight from the already partly dried tears she had shed.

“He’s alive. It was just a dream.” She whispered to herself. God, why _wouldn’t_ they let her see him then?

*******************************

 

It was odd how she had forgotten how all of this had begun. With Ellian stealing Jack’s body. That fact seemed so insignificant now, so when Daniel brought him up –she felt a jolt of realisation course through her.

“Apparently Ellian’s people _had_ been in contact with the Goa’uld, they just hadn’t realised. One of them, -we all assume Nir’ti- had experimented on them generations ago because of some biological advancement in their DNA, but then she left for some reason, her research going unfinished, forcing Ellian’s people to live with the nightmares her manipulations had caused. It is some kind of defect from her tinkering with their minds which was passed on in the genetic codes. Jack is with them. Thor thought that his Ancient gene fused with Asgard technology might be able to help them combat the changes in their DNA, and he was right. That’s where Jack has been, overseeing the administering of the new drug Ellian and Thor cultivated.”

“He’s…helping Ellian?” She asked, her mind engaging and stuttering on the fact that this was the first time she had heard where exactly Jack had been. That he wasn’t just…gone. He was gone for a reason.

“He volunteered to be Thor’s Ancient-gene lab-rat. Thor is convinced that Jack’s DNA is the answer to Ellian’s issue. I’m not sure of the specifics…”

She tuned out after that, her mind unable to process anything more beyond the fact that Jack was helping the man that had condemned them to the mind games in the first place.

He wasn’t dead. He was just avoiding her apparently. Knowing where he had been and why he hadn’t been _here_ didn’t lessen her feeling of neglect, it only made things feel worse somehow. That he had made a conscious effort to remain away despite the fact that she needed him here to chase away all the inconsistencies that refused to leave her thoughts.

It wasn’t like him to volunteer to help people who had wronged him, and Ellian had violated him in the most basic way by stealing his body. To forgive such a slight would call for a pretty good reason, and Sam had to consider that it might be just the excuse Jack had needed to get away from Earth. Get away from _her_.

After everything –seeing her memories and fantasies splayed out for him to see and feel- seeing her and actually looking at her had become difficult.

Not that she blamed him.

She found it hard to look at herself without seeing something and wondering if it was real.

She was a mess. No wonder he avoided her.

She thought of that last moment on the ship, where she had felt him so completely, had experienced something she had wanted for so long…and she was left once more wondering if it had really happened.

_He would never take advantage of you. The real him would have stopped that from going so far. But he hadn’t._

Her mind continued to tell her that. Continued to argue the facts and the fiction, convincing her day by day that she hadn’t truly been touched by him. Been loved by him. That her mind had just been latching onto another fantasy to keep her afloat when she was sure without it she would sink.

Maybe it hadn’t been real.

“Sam?” She jumped, lifting her head and seeing Daniel watching her carefully, as if she was some broken doll that would need to be thrown away. That she was beyond any real repair.

“Sorry…I just…tuned out.” She said softly.

“I know.” He reached out and touched her hand again and stood up.

“I’ll let you rest.” He said with a half-smile, the concern in his eyes palpable.

She nodded impotently, knowing that she really didn’t want to sleep. Sleep always tended to confuse her more than exhaustion. Sometimes her dreams would draw her so deeply into their embrace, weave around her so completely, that she couldn’t quite shear away the threads when she was awake.

She wanted to ask him to stay. But she didn’t…


	13. Chapter 13

Jack watched her carefully from the doorway, knowing she knew he was there from the sudden tension in her body.

Staying away hadn’t been easy, but he had done it for her. Instead of help her however, he feared that his absence had only distanced her further from reality. From him. From what Daniel said, she had nightmares, and he felt responsible. He hadn’t been here when she had awoken, to be there to assure her that the nightmares were just that, and had no right to be encroaching on her waking reality.

“You were gone.” She said softly, her head turning slightly so he could see her pale profile.

“Noticed that huh?” he asked, trying to remain light and cavalier.

“I kept hoping you could fix everything. That everything wouldn’t hurt so much if you were there… _here_.” She admitted, seeming like she was almost talking to herself, as if he was just a figment of her overactive imagination, and having a conversation with a figment wasn’t so odd.

“I can’t fix it Carter.” He replied after a moment. He was just a man. No matter how much he wished he was superhuman now to rid her of the confusion.

She turned then, pinning him with a lucid look that seared him. The first thing he noticed was that she wasn’t so chaotic. Her eyes weren’t darting and fearful, her gaze clear and _normal_. And the thing that made hope bloom in his chest the most was the fact that she wasn’t looking at him as if he was some long dead apparition anymore.

“I know.” She said, keeping the eye contact for a moment before she looked down again. “It’s just… _hard_ …to differentiate between my own memories and…the _other_ memories.”

He took a step closer but stilled when she stiffened. He didn’t want to push her. Wanted her to get better on her own time, no matter how long that took. He knew how Tarut had damaged her mind. He had seen and he had felt every emotion she had, but he hadn’t been trapped in her mind like she had been. He had known what was real and what wasn’t, while she had been continuously struggling to find the fissures between fact and fiction.

“You seem to be doing…better.” He said after a moment of just watching her, tucking his hands into his pockets, wondering for a moment if seeing her right now was supposed to make _him_ feel better when all he wanted to do was retreat. He wasn’t good enough to be the one standing here. She had completely shut Pete out, blaming him for a death that hadn’t happened.

 _‘Who am I to be allowed here?’_   He thought to himself. Who indeed when her own fiancée was shut on the outside, told that seeing her only seemed to upset her.

If she didn’t need Shanahan, who was he to be here? He had made mistakes with her. Done wrong by her when she had been too screwed up to really make a rational decision in regards to them, but he had let it happen anyway. Had let his own emotional desperation drive him, and had taken advantage of her need for him.

And that was so unforgiveable.

A ghost of a smile curved her lips, a pale comparison to a real Carter smile –wryly patronising, a poor imitation.

“That all depends, Sir.” She said, her eyes skimming over his face.

“On?” he chanced asking, raising a brow. It was the first time he’d heard a ‘Sir’ quite like that from her in some time. Almost like everything was back to normal. The good old days of… _sanity_. Like she was his Carter again.

“On whether or not you’re a hallucination.” She responded seriously, meeting his gaze once more, that amused smile still on her face. He wasn’t sure she really believed it or not. And that scared the shit out of him.

“Do you usually hallucinate about me?” he asked mildly, masking his sudden fear that maybe she _was_ nuts. A damned trail mix of nuts. McKenzie had assured him that she was better. He hated to wonder how whacked she had been _before_ when they had first come back and he had retreated to Ellian’s planet.

“Fantasised. Dreamed. Hallucinated. You seem to be the main character in every aspect of my subconscious thoughts.”

“There’s probably a cure somewhere for that.” He joked lamely, wanting to leave so he could deny this image of his Carter so lost, but needing to stay. To see her as she was. To be able to help her like Daniel had convinced him she needed. He knew she may never be ‘fixed’, but then again, he had never expected perfect, although, in his eyes, she came pretty damn close –flaws and all.

“And if I’m real?” he asked after a moment, leaning back against the drawers by the door, arms crossed over his chest.

“If you’re real –and I suspect you are- then…it’s good to see you, Sir.” She was sincere. Maybe her mind wasn’t as unsalvageable as he had thought. Her eyes were glistening with unshed tears, drinking him in so completely he felt a moment of uncertainty. Seeing _Carter_ looking at him with such undisguised fondness tore through him, her usually carefully schooled features open to his gaze, bared and unguarded, revealing so many previously stilted emotions.

“Feel like getting out of here?” he asked. He had silently been assessing her, making sure she was really getting better before offering to spring her from the tender, loving hands of Mckenzie.

“Busting me out?” she asked with an amused quirk of her lips. He suspected that she had been waiting for him to say what he had.

“Would if I had to, but no…McKenzie’s letting you go home to recuperate.” He responded, waving his hand towards the door and freedom. The relief in her features almost made him smile.

“About time.” She muttered, almost to herself, sighing as she stood from her perch by the window. A spot that she had obviously frequented. It was time to go home…

*******************************

 

Sitting on his back deck in his Colorado home had never been more _right_ as it felt right now, with carter right there next to him getting some fresh air. He glanced at her face, noting the still pale features and the uncertain look there that she kept shooting his way. Something was wrong.

Jack waited, watching her hesitation and her awkwardness from the corner of his eye as they sat on his deck, her eyes flickering over his back yard, then darting back towards the back sliding door –checking if Daniel and Teal’c were in hearing range?

She wanted to say something. That was clear. All he could do was wait, and not push her.

She turned back to his tree lined yard, tucking her hands between her thighs to warm her fingers, looking down; a frown on her features.

“Carter..?” he asked, prompting her in a moment of impatience. She lifted her eyes to his, before glancing once more towards the house.

“Was it…real?” she asked, her eyes meeting his, holding. Locking. For once she didn’t try to look away.

“What?” he asked gently, studying her features.

She looked panicked suddenly, as if she feared the memory she was asking him about _wasn’t_ real.

“The ship…I…I…” she was shaking slightly now, eyes downcast as if she couldn’t bear to looking at him if it turned out to be another memory.

 _‘Oh.’_ He thought stupidly. _‘That…’_

“It wasn’t…was it? Just another twist.” She stood abruptly, as if needing to get away but not sure where she could go seeing as she was at his house and out of her comfort zone. “God, I can’t…”

She was retreating. He stood and grabbed her wrist just as Daniel and Teal’c stepped out of the back door onto the deck. They both stopped abruptly when they saw the brewing unrest and Jack had to thank god they weren’t rushing to help her in her current vulnerable state. They knew that whatever Sam’s current problem was, he would deal with it. Trusted him to do so without stepping in to soften his manner towards her.

“It was real Sam. You and me. It was real. I promise.” He said softly, only for her to hear and she looked up at him with agonised tears in her eyes, studying him for sincerity.

“Then why did you stay away for so long?” She asked, stubbornly holding her tears back when they attempted to crest her lids. She reached up a shaky hand, her sweater over her hand, wiping just below her eye.

“You needed to find your footing Carter. I couldn’t complicate things.” He said firmly, knowing that staying away hadn’t exactly helped, but the reason he had stayed away was a sound one. If she hadn’t found her own footing, she would have continued to rely on him for strength.

“I thought it had been another one of Tarut’s games. That the ship wasn’t real and I needed it to be real Jack. But you weren’t there to tell me if it was and I couldn’t trust myself…” Her voice was high-strung, as she swallowed, trying to say everything that was biting her inside all at once.

He drew her into his arms, the only thing he knew that could soothe her. He’d been trying to protect her –to help her- by staying away. By letting her find her own way back to the Carter she had been before Tarut.

But she had been lost. Uncertain which memories she could trust and which she couldn’t.

“Each time I was sure which memories were real, something always…got me turned around. You weren’t there, and I…I couldn’t…”

“I know.” He murmured, thinking to himself how stupid he had been for thinking she was better off without him making things difficult. “I’m not going anywhere now Carter. Whatever you need.”

She nodded against his shoulder, and he simply held her, seeing Daniel and Teal’c re-enter the house to give them a few moments. They were only here in case he wasn’t able to handle Carter in her current fragile state. Not only that, but they knew that his own recovery hadn’t exactly been going all that well either.

In fact, he had the feeling that Hammond would be offering the option of the retirement he had coveted since he had taken command of the SGC. Not that he would have really retired before all of this. Now, he might just consider it.

It only took _another_ near-death experience to compel his superiors to put that option on the table, and Jack felt bitterness well up inside him at that.

Maybe he would even refuse to retire just to screw with them the way they had screwed him. And maybe, just maybe, he would ask for the one thing on his list that he had been unable to ever voice. The one thing that he shouldn’t ask for but felt he couldn’t live without anymore. Especially after everything that had happened.

Carter. Number One on his list.

“I want that.” She said softly, her breath hitching, wafting over the side of his neck.

“What?” He asked, pulling back slightly.

“What we had on the ship…but… _here_.” She glanced back towards the house. He felt a thrill race through him at the prospect of what exactly she was saying. He looked warily into her eyes, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“It shouldn’t have happened.” He said calmly, raising a brow.

“But it did.” She responded, countering his words.

“Okay…but it shouldn’t happen _again_.” He argued.

“But it will.” She replied and he stared at her. Now she was confident? _Now_?

“Carter…” He began with a shake of his head.

“It brought everything into perspective. What’s important. I don’t want to pretend anymore. I don’t want to look back and see only twisted memories triggered by a Goa’uld the only reality of ‘us’.”

He wasn’t confident that this was really what she wanted. That maybe she wanted the figment in her mind and not the truth of him in the flesh. Like she was projecting some unattainable entity she perceived as him into reality. That the true prospect of them would never be enough for her.

He didn’t want to be her biggest regret.

She smiled wryly as if she knew his thoughts. And maybe she did know. Could predict what he would think, as if she had been in _his_ mind, and not the other way around.

“I won’t regret it, you know?” she said softly, not reaching to touch him, but a spark of light entered her eyes, the first sign of the old Carter he had seen since he had sprung her from McKenzie’s clutches.

“I’m not easy Carter.” He warned, raising a brow. He wasn’t sure if he was trying to dissuade her from this, or just giving her fair warning that this thing between them wouldn’t be some perfect happily-ever-after that had materialised from some fairy tale and romance novel.

She rolled her eyes at him.

“Don’t you think I _know_ that already?” she asked pointedly, and he felt oddly chided. Yeah, she knew him. Had dealt with his idiosyncrasies over the years and his sometimes unyielding manner.

“This isn’t one of your better plans you know.” He said, one last ditch attempt to save his heart from hope. Could she truly want this? With _him_?

Somewhere inside him he’d had this idea that after he managed to bring her back from whatever brink she had been on, she would skip back off to be with Pete.

She had just blown that unrealistic thought from his mind.

She turned back to him as she moved as if to walk towards the back doors, reassured she had a real memory of _them_ , seeming to be pleased that what had happened on that ship had actually transpired despite the less than suave way he had taken advantage of her.

She didn’t seem too concerned by the way it had happened. The simple unrestrained moment of lust and desperation that had brought them together. A shoddy realisation of a desire that had been long denied to them.

He had imagined it differently, and he guessed so had she…but in this moment as she cast amused eyes over her shoulder, proving to him that she would recover from everything, he had to agree that he was at peace with it now too.

“No. Not one of my better plans…by far it has to be my _best_.” And she was stepping into his house, leaving him standing there on his deck beside his Barbeque, wondering what exactly the future would hold. All he knew was that now, he was going to make damn sure he got what he wanted for once.

Number One on his little list…

And if he could claim number One on his list, he would maybe get to show her how it was really supposed to be between them. Not some moment where their defences were crumbled around them so beautifully, not some raw moment that was more about reaching out and fumbling for a hand-hold on some far-off semblance of reality that had been just out of reach.

He would give her new memories, and if he was really good, he could very well replace the twisted ones with real ones and put her innocent fantasies back together from the pieces Tarut had scattered without remorse.

Jack had every confidence that she could get better. And he would ensure it…

Because he’d be by her side every step of the way.


	14. Epilogue

He watched her as he exited his bathroom with his hand towel in hand, seeing her run her fingers over the edge of his dresser, look at the picture of Charlie that sat there before moving on, her eyes taking in every inch of his bedroom as if searching for every little nuance of who he was by the possessions he cherished enough to keep in his private spaces.

He was awed by her. Her hair had grown slightly while he had been on Ellian’s world, her face having some of the colour it had lost from the last few days sitting outside with the sunlight and the fresh air.

It had all done her the world of good, her eyes not as haunted or tortured anymore.

Every night he would drive her back to her house himself, where one of them would stay on her couch to be close by in case she woke in a nightmare or was triggered by something mediocre. He would watch her jump when a door would close, see her tense when he stood in a doorway or in shadow, her eyes panicked.

But now, at this moment as she stood assessing every inch of his bedroom like she was hungry for all of what she was seeing, he didn’t see fear or panic. Just curiosity.

After their conversation on his deck, he had noticed her visibly relax around him, not looking at him as if he held some secret that he refused to tell her.

Because she knew now that what had transpired between them on that ship had been real, and that it wasn’t some trick or a delusion or a dream conjured up from her mind.

That he had been real.

He’d realised from her newly relaxed state that maybe just an assurance that not everything was an illusion from their imprisonment and after was all she had really needed to step onto the path towards true recovery.

She turned, catching him staring at her so openly, her eyes softening as she took in his features, studying him before a small smile lit her face.

He had never seen her look more beautiful.

He moved to the bedside table and switched on the lamp, turning back to her and placing the towel on the dresser beside her.

“You okay?” he asked, wondering why she was in here and not waiting in the lounge room where he had left her to take her home. It was his night to stay with her, which he was glad for, because he did not want to explain to Daniel why he wanted to be closer to her tonight.

“Yes. I just…” She blushed and looked down at her hands and he smirked, finding it adorable that she obviously hadn’t meant to follow him in here like this. Hadn’t meant to snoop in his bedroom.

“You just?” he pressed.

“Wanted to see…your things.” She admitted, her eyes flicking up to his.

“Want to go home?” he asked after a moment, not wanting her to feel uncomfortable after her little admittance that seeing his belongings had been her main reason for coming here.

She looked up at him then and shook her head.

“No. Can we…stay here for a while?” she asked awkwardly, her eyes unerringly falling onto his bed again. He felt a fissure of something that he knew was misplaced lust, especially seeing as she seemed a little uncomfortable now being alone with him in his bedroom.

Letting things progress between them on a ship while she had been partly out of her mind was one thing, but this...

This was more personal.

His bedroom, surrounded by his things. Real. Not a memory.

She had only been in his bedroom once or twice, and not for the reasons he had always wished.

“Sure. We can do that.” he said amicably, slipping his hands into his pockets and shrugging his shoulders upwards, looking towards the door when she still didn’t move from where she stood to leave his bedroom. She still held her fingers against the edge of the dresser, seemingly frozen with uncertainty and indecision, biting into her bottom lip like she did so frequently these days, as if hesitant to ask something she was aching to know…in case the question made people think she was still on the wrong side of sane.

He was just about to turn and go for the phone, thinking that maybe he should call in some help –that maybe she was relapsing by being alone in his presence- when she looked up at him with sudden and complete clarity, before she stepped into him and pulled him down into a kiss that was both awkward and soft.

He didn’t move, his hands still tucked into his pockets as she gripped onto his collar with both hands, kissing him so innocently he immediately felt himself react to the gentle exploration. He opened his mouth to protest, but she silenced him with her tongue, slipping out to tease against his bottom lip before delving hesitantly inside his mouth.

He groaned and brought his hands from his pockets, curving his fingers around her upper arms as if to still her, but instead he found himself kissing her back, tasting her sweetness, his whole body recalling just how it felt to slide inside her.

He felt his legs hit the edge of his bed and he tumbled back, losing his equilibrium abruptly. He hadn’t even realised they’d been moving until he was horizontal with her crawling up over him, her lips still clinging to his so sweetly, her hands working underneath his shirt to target bare skin with her physical, gentle assault.

He wasn’t sure what exactly had prompted this, if she was remembering what they had done on that ship and seeing it with new eyes now she knew it _had_ actually happened, or if she was just aching to have some contact again, but he wasn’t sure he could actually form true thoughts about this moment when she was reaching now frantic fingers for his belt buckle, trying to tug it free.

He rolled her onto her back and got up to his haunches, breaking the kiss breathlessly before he levered himself above her, assessing her desire filled features, searching for some hint as to whether she was really here with him in this moment or if it was just another supposed delusional hide away from her perspective. To not face the doubts and the fears that had been creasing her thoughts.

“Carter…what ya doing?” he asked softly on a groan, pushing himself back to his knees before her on the bed, trying to get his body under control before he took advantage of her again.

She looked suddenly freaked, her eyes still drenched in lust but now underscored by an acknowledgement of a perceived rejection.

“I thought…” she moved to get up, trying to get off his bed, her brow furrowing as she touched her lips as if seared by the kiss she had initiated. Embarrassed by it.

“Oh no you don’t…” He said sternly, pulling her back to the bed and forcing her to look him in the eye. “No more bad communication Carter. I’m not rejecting you…”

“Then…”

“I just think we should slow down a little. If we’re gonna do this, I don’t want it to be some rushed… _thing_ like on the ship.”

“Felt wrong.” She acknowledged, understanding lighting in her eyes.

“Yes. Yes it did...” he responded.

She reached out and touched his face, looking at him with soft eyes again, fondness in her gaze.

“This isn’t wrong.” She said, glancing around the room as if talking about the whole situation.

It didn’t feel forced. Didn’t feel like some grab for something solid in darkness. It was…lighter.

Less stressful. And she was fast becoming the Carter he remembered again, not some unravelled, trembling, vulnerable woman on the verge of a nervous breakdown. She was right. This wasn’t wrong.

He lowered himself back down, resting himself there, finding that she didn’t flinch away from his touch, didn’t stiffen beneath the weight of him. It almost felt as if they had done this a million times, and he wasn’t sure if it was all of Tarut’s mind games that had put them at ease with each other like this, or if they would always just sway together so easily, but it wasn’t really a concern for him, because it felt good to be with her like this.

So naturally.

But this was tangible, and there was still the knowledge that he was unofficially her CO despit4e her medical leave and his forced time off.

“Sure about this? We’re probably breaking all sorts of rules…” He said, feeling her shift below him.

“I don’t care.” She replied, drawing him down to her, her lips on his once more.

He didn’t hesitate to kiss her back completely this time, feeling his strength of will collapse under the soft pressure of her mouth and the curves and warmth that lay beneath him.

He vaguely realised that this was the first time he had been even remotely close to being warm in weeks.

Her body chased away the darkness in his mind, chased away all the images that had refused to budge in the weeks since their escape.

Maybe Daniel had been right this whole time. Maybe they had truly needed each other to begin to get better.

He would kick himself later.

As they lay in the aftermath, he felt a jolt of complete panic as he noticed she was crying in the silence that followed their pleasure.

“I’m sorry.” She said after a moment of silence as he tried to figure out how to ask her why she was crying.

“For?” he asked roughly, fatigue draining his energy.

“Being such a mess.” She whispered, reaching up to wipe more tears away from her cheek, turning her face away from him. He tightened his hold on her and reached down, pulling his sheets up around them to warm her when he felt the chill in her skin.

“You are far from a mess...”

“I _am_ a mess. I don’t usually cry during... _this_.” She said awkwardly, her hand fluttering in the air before she dropped it back down.

“Something I did?” he asked, stiffening, holding her to him, hoping like hell it was a ‘no’. He wasn’t sure what he would do if she regretted this.

“No.” She paused. “This is real isn’t it? I’m really not imagining this?” she asked, looking at him with a broken expression.

“Very real. You okay with that?” he asked, uncertain whether this being real was a bad thing for her or a good thing.

“Yes. I just…” She swallowed, her voice shaking before she took a breath and continued. “I never thought…I mean…after everything…that you would want this. Seeing what you did…the way it was all warped and…”

“None of that matters. This is reality.” He responded firmly, meeting her gaze as she turned slightly in his arms to look fully at him.

“I like it being real.” She admitted with a soft sigh, relaxing into his embrace. “I don’t have to dream about it anymore.”

She reached up to touch his chest, her hand over his heart, finding calm with his steady heartbeat.

He shook his head and smirked. “I don’t think anything can beat the real thing…although…if the dream is about _twins_ then…”

She actually smiled then as he trailed off, letting her mind fill in the blanks of his perverted thought process. Her eyes drifted closed as she relaxed, her features for once not creased with fear as she began to drift off to sleep.

“I think I’m going to be alright.” She whispered sleepily, her face buried into his chest.

“I know you are.” He responded gently.

She fell asleep, and Jack remained right there beside her, watching over her to make sure she had no bad dreams.

She slept the whole night through...

.fin.


End file.
